


They Meet In A Bar

by divybread



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Attraction, Falling In Love, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Realistic, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-07-14 21:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16048784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divybread/pseuds/divybread
Summary: One year at university abroad, a roommate he didn't account for and a few very confusing revelations.Yixing wasn't prepared forthis.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic is what I originally started writing with the 'they meet in a bar' scene. I had no will to finish it as I wrote it and eventually I used the very first scene to write 'Palpitations' with it, but after reading it over again, I felt it deserved its own spot. A way to see how one scene can go different ways, perhaps?  
> Please be advised that Yixing shows some signs of homophobia as this little writing progresses, in case you're not a big fan of that (who is, really?).  
> Anyway, this is only the first part but I make no promises that I will write any more of it (although I hope to).

They meet in a bar. It’s kind of funny how cliché life sometimes gets, without warning or preamble.

They meet in a bar and Yixing spills his drink right on the guy’s shirt, because he didn’t expect anyone behind him as he turned away from the bartender. For a split second, he feels as if a hush has fallen over the crowd while the guy’s eyes slowly wander upwards from the stained shirt. But then their gazes lock, the taller male’s lips curl into a smile, and it’s like all the noise starts again all at once.

“I’m so sorry!” Yixing instantly apologises, watching the way the Bloody Mary stains the guy’s white shirt, liquid seeping further and further into the fabric, causing it to cling to skin and toned muscles like a thin layer. When his eyes catch those of the stranger next, he feels his cheeks heating up, and becomes acutely aware of how that brings a fucking handsome sort of smirk to the other male’s features.

“It’s aight, man,” he is told, as the stranger pulls the shirt over his head like it’s no big deal – like they’re not in public – and drops it over Yixing’s arm. “Just make sure you get it clean or you owe me a new shirt.” And after being granted first row view to a dashingly handsome grin, it’s like he becomes part of the furniture as the guy turns his attention to the bartender and completely ignores his existence after that. Slightly dazed, Yixing walks back to his friends, delivering a half-empty Bloody Mary and carefully folding up the shirt.

“Dude,” Luhan says, and there’s worry in his eyes as he puts a hand on Yixing’s arm. “Are you okay? Whatever he said, don’t let it bug you, okay?” The look Yixing gives his best friend must speak volumes of his inability to understand, because Luhan motions slightly in the direction of where he comes from. “That was Yifan. He’s an ass to _everyone_. Don’t take it personally, alright?” His eyes temporarily flicker to the shirt. “We’ll just get that washed for him and then he can’t complain.”

Yixing’s not entirely sure why Luhan looks so annoyed, or what part of Yifan’s behaviour had been that of an ass, but he decides to stay quiet. Luhan has been here longer than him, after all, he probably knows better. He makes a mental note, however, of Luhan’s clear dislike of the tall man, and decides to make sure he doesn’t get on his bad side. For some reason he also makes a mental note of the name – Yifan – and tries the sound of it in his head a few more times.

He doesn’t realise he’s staring off into space until Luhan nudges his side and raises his eyebrows in question. Luckily there’s plenty of drinks and plenty of things to talk about, what with the new year at university starting the following week, so nobody notices when his attention trails off a little more often throughout the rest of the evening.

 

A couple days later, when he’s unpacking his things in his very own dorm room, the door opens and Yifan walks in, several bags strapped to him that he all drops on the empty bed on the other side of the room rather carelessly. Only after dumping the load does Yifan lift his head to look up at him, and recognition flashes over the older male’s features instantly.

“Well if it isn’t Bloody Mary. How you doin’, dude?”

For a long moment, Yixing can only stare at the taller male, unable to fully comprehend that they’re standing in the same room – Yixing’s dorm room, to be more exact. Unless he recalled wrongly, the name of his roommate was most definitely not Yifan. Someone in the same year as him, instead, but not… this guy.

When Yifan’s eyebrows rise slightly, he realises he hasn’t actually said anything yet, so he blurts out the very first thing that comes to mind. “I got your shirt…!”

“What?” Confusion settles in the lines of Yifan’s face before it clears again when the older male seems to catch up to what Yixing’s talking about. “Oh, right. You got it clean?”

He nods, Yifan shoots him an amused grin. “You gotta tell my mom how you did it, dude. She’s gonna love you forever.” He gets to look at that same grin a few moments longer, before Yifan simply heads for the door again. “See ya soon then, Bloody Mary. You can leave the shirt on the bed with my bags, it’s cool.”

Half an hour later, Yixing checks with the dorm manager to make sure Yifan is really his new roommate, and what happened to the other one? There is no explanation given for the latter part, but the answer to his first question is affirmative.

 

“You what!?”

Yixing is pretty sure that if Luhan’s eyes would open any further, they’d pop out. But all he can do is nod.

“Okay. Okay…”

Luhan’s entire demeanour has never been so jittery, and for the first time since being told of Wu Yifan, Yixing actually starts to get worried. If what they all say is really true, he’s in for a hellish schoolyear. And right as it might be his most important one yet.

“Okay,” Luhan says again, but he seems to have regained some sort of composure. “I know someone who roomed with him two years ago. If you stay out of his way and clear the room whenever he has friends over, you should be okay. I’ll talk to Baekhyun. I’m sure he’ll be okay with you spending those times with us. He’ll understand.”

Yixing nods, and gratitude starts to fill him. Having a friend like Luhan to help him with settling into a new country and school is a blessing he’s not sure he deserves. At least he won’t have to try and live with the school’s ‘number one’ all on his own. At least there’s people like Luhan and Baekhyun to look out for him or he might just have died at some point.

 

There’s a party, but Yixing’s not entirely sure what he’s doing there. He sits mostly at the side, watching his friends have fun, watching them not even realise anymore that he is there at all. He wants to feel bad about it, but he can’t. Not when they’re clearly having so much fun. Not now that Luhan is smiling so brightly.

But he can’t look away either. Can’t help wishing that someone would notice he’s just sitting there, all by himself.

Suddenly a glass is placed on the table in front of him, and he looks up only to see Yifan with a beer in his hand, nudging the Bloody Mary closer to him. “Try not to spill it on someone this time,” he’s told, and he’s too surprised by the friendliness of that smile to tell the other man he doesn’t actually like the particular cocktail. A moment of awkward silence settles between them before Yifan frowns at him lightly.

“You okay there, Mary? You’ve been here almost an hour now. You don’t like to dance?” He doesn’t want to tell his roommate that he actually loves dancing, but that he doesn’t want to become the third wheel to Luhan’s date, so he just shrugs. Yifan pushes himself up from the chair again, ready to leave.

Surprisingly it’s not an exit like before, because the tall male looks back at him and motions him to follow. “Come on. And grab that drink with both hands. Wouldn’t want you to drop it.” He startles into movement, nearly knocking the glass over, and wishes he could just disappear into a hole already.

Twenty minutes later, they’re on the roof of the building, and Yixing wonders why the hell he followed his roommate all the way up here. Yifan has his elbows resting on the ledge, beer in hand, gazing out at the city. Yixing has his own Bloody Mary placed on the floor, still full.

“It like it here,” Yifan suddenly says, and Yixing’s head turns in the tall male’s direction automatically. “The night is a lot more accommodating than one would think.”

There’s a sense of camaraderie in the way Yifan glances at him, soft type of expression gracing his features. But he soon decides that he must have imagined it, because there’s no way Yifan considers him an equal, let alone a friend.

He only realises the older male was waiting for some sort of response, when Yifan glances over at him once more to see why none is following, and by then it’s too late already to say anything.

“Anyway,” Yifan continues, pushing himself up from the ledge. The moment has clearly passed. “Now you have somewhere to go when you’re bored. I’ll see you around, Mary.” A few, long strides easily remove the basketball player from the scene, and Yixing is left alone on an unfamiliar rooftop with a drink he doesn’t like.

For some reason he decides to stay there a little longer anyway.

 

Yixing steps back, intimidated, when the taller and much broader guy closes in on him. The grin on the guy’s face promises nothing good and he doesn’t think Luhan will be able to save him this time. After all, Luhan’s still in the middle of a wonderful date. A sudden collision between his back and the wall temporarily robs him of air, and he sees the grin on the guy’s face widen in triumph. His blood runs cold.

Then, suddenly, smugness changes to surprise, as the guy is yanked away and slammed hard into the side of the bathroom stall. With wide eyes, Yixing watches the guy angrily round on his attacker, only to be punched in the face before he can even say anything. And without reason or need, a second punch follows before the guy can even properly lift his head again.

Yixing’s eyes settle on Yifan, who shakes his hand to loosen his fingers like it’s no big deal. It takes only one look by the star basketball player at the other two guys present to make them hurry off. Without another look at the guy passed out on the floor, Yifan walks over to the urinals to take a leak. As if nothing out of the ordinary just happened. As if Yixing didn’t just see his entire life flash by before his very eyes.

“Annoying fucking guy,” Yifan states with a bit of a sigh, turning his head shortly to look at Yixing. “You okay there, Mary? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” It’s all Yixing can do not to sag in relief, simply nodding his head first before swallowing so he can get out a few words as well.

“Yeah… Fine.”

Yifan grins at him, but Yixing honestly doesn’t see what’s so funny about any of the things that just happened. And in the midst of his frayed nerves, he decides that the best thing to do is just walk out and go home.

 

It’s not even a week later when Yifan enters the room with a split lip and a bruised cheek. Yixing doesn’t realise until he looks up from his books when the usual comment stays out.

“What happened to you!?” he blurts out without thinking, instantly flushing when Yifan’s gaze zeroes in on him.

“Disagreement.” A shrug as the basketball star skims through his clothes, and flashes Yixing half a grin while he’s at it. “The other guy’s worse off. No need for you to worry about me, Mary.”

Yifan leaves not long after changing clothes, without saying another word.

 

They don’t see each other for a few days after that, despite sharing a room. Yixing almost starts to wonder if something happened to Yifan. Then he comes back to his room one day to find what seems like half the basketball team there.

He instantly remembers what Luhan told him, but there’s no way he can go anywhere without having taken a shower first, so he quickly grabs some clothes and goes to do exactly that. Yifan intercepts him on the way to the door, a hand coming to a short rest on his arm.

“I invited some friends,” he’s told, in a surprisingly soft voice. “I hope you don’t mind.” He shakes his head, then continues his way to the shower.

“You have a weird roommate,” he hears one of Yifan’s friends say later, when he’s trying to get some sleep. “Hasn’t said a word. And _what_ is that poster?” There’s a moment of silence in which it doesn’t seem like anyone will react. Then Yifan’s deep voice sounds up.

“He’s quite alright. Don’t touch his stuff, have some respect.” A pause, footsteps receding from his side of the room. “Hayden, let’s go to your room so he can sleep in peace.”

Five minutes later, it sounds like the room is empty. Except there’s some sound near the door and then: “Good night, Mary.” before it fully closes and locks.

He sleeps surprisingly well that night.

 

When he wakes the next morning, Yifan is just entering the room again after having been out the entire night, it seems. Heavily intoxicated and clearly incapable of finding his own bed, because he stumbles over his own feet and crash-lands on the foot end of Yixing’s mattress. There’s a moment’s silence, before Yixing moves, pulling his feet out from underneath the tall man’s weight.

“Morning, Mary,” Yifan slurs from his face-down position. “I’m a little drunk, so I’m just gonna have a quick power nap over here.” It doesn’t even take a heartbeat for Yifan to be out cold, and for a while Yixing just looks down at the limp for of his roommate in the following silence.

He eventually decides he can’t just leave Yifan half on the bed, half on the floor, so he uses all his might to drag the ridiculously heavy shape of the man onto the bed entirely. Removing shoes and jeans from an unconscious person is also harder than expected, but eventually he manages to leave Yifan sleeping in his bed, in shirt and underwear only, covered by a blanket.

After one last look at his roommate, he goes to find breakfast.

 

It’s three in the afternoon, Yixing studying at his desk, when Yifan finally wakes up again. Yixing doesn’t realise it at first, until a groan sounds up behind him. Turning his head, he watches the star player attempt to rub his face – attempt – then give up and roll over to the other side, clearly intent on sleeping more. He turns back to his books, assuming it’ll be another hour, when suddenly Yifan speaks.

“Where am I?” The usually already deep voice is even more gruff because of sleep and the effects of a hangover. Yixing looks over again, to see Yifan blinking up against the light.

“You’re in your room,” he replies after a moment, when he thinks the older male is looking at him more consciously. “You collapsed on my bed this morning, so I let you sleep it off.” He pauses, glances at the clock. “It’s three in the afternoon, in case you were wondering.” He looks back at the elder and finds himself suddenly looking into very bright and aware eyes. There’s a strange sort of look on Yifan’s face, as if the taller male is weighing his worth. He can’t seem to look away.

“Thanks for letting me,” Yifan eventually says, and the moment ends as the elder looks away.

Without thinking, Yixing replies: “Yeah, well, try to aim yourself entirely onto the mattress next time. All those muscles don’t exactly make you a butterfly to lift.” He realises what he’s said the second it’s out of his mouth and an instant flashback to the guy beat up in the bathroom comes back to him. Fear instantly grips his chest and he almost freezes in his position as he looks at his roommate, waiting for the explosion to hit.

Yifan looks straight back at him for a long moment, then huffs out a bit of a laugh.

“Sure thing, Mary, I’ll keep it in mind.”

 

It doesn’t really change anything, not really, except it does. Yixing no longer sees ‘popular basketball player numero uno, feared by everyone he comes across’, he just sees a guy. A guy who is usually a dick, who treats a lot of people like they’re worth nothing, but who talks to Yixing like he’s somehow managed to be viewed as an acceptable person. He’s not entirely sure why he gets the special treatment, but he’s not about to go ask for the reasons either.

No point in risking to wake a sleeping dragon, after all.

Luhan asks him one day what it’s like to be roommates with Yifan, but he doesn’t really know how to answer. “It’s fine,” he says eventually. “It’s just like having any other roommate.” Luhan looks at him like he’s lying but they’re too good friends to accuse him of it. He doesn’t attempt to change the other guy’s mind.

Somehow, though, as the weeks and months go by, he sees less and less of Luhan. He assumes his friend is too busy to hang out now that he’s in a relationship and lets it go. They still text, at least.

Until that stops too. And no matter how much of a shame he thinks it is, he doesn’t find it in himself to reach out more often again, either.

 

Somebody knocks on the door one day, and Yifan gets up to open it. It seems like absolutely no words are being exchanged, but it still takes a good minute before Yifan turns back with a seemingly reluctant “Someone’s here for you, Mary.” He looks up from his computer in surprise, because he wasn’t expecting anyone, then pushes himself up to go check it out.

A tall, lanky seeming guy with a super friendly smile greets him on the other side of the door. He smiles back politely, wonders what the guy wants from him, then gets nudged aside without further ado as Yifan leaves the room. Frowning lightly after his roommate, he soon focuses his attention back on his guest.

“Hello. Sorry about that,” he states, a little awkward. “Um… I uh… I don’t think I’ve seen you before?” He temporarily worries that that might be an offensive thing to say – especially if they _have_ met before – but then the stranger grins brightly and he relaxes automatically because of it.

“Nah, it’s cool. We haven’t met yet. My name’s Chanyeol. I heard someone say you play a little guitar. Thought maybe you might want to join me for a jamming session? Unless I heard wrong, of course, in that case you’re always free to come listen.” The other guy’s smile is way too infectious to not feel comfortable, and Yixing grins back easily.

“That, uh, that actually sounds pretty interesting,” he agrees, and Chanyeol’s smile grows even wider at the acceptance.

“Cool. Cool!” The response is, after which they both just stand there for a while, looking at each other without moving much. Chanyeol starts to laugh first, breaking the awkwardness. “I meant right now, actually. That, uh, that work for you?” It’s only a second, he only hesitates a split second, which says enough about how much he’s been dying to hang out with someone again.

“Yeah, sure! Let me just grab my guitar.” He goes to pull the instrument out from underneath his bed, then grabs a sweater on the way to the door. Chanyeol’s still grinning at him just as cheerfully and it’s contagious so Yixing smiles back automatically as he hoists the strap of his guitar over his shoulder and leaves his own room behind.

 

Chanyeol’s dorm room turns out to not be very far off and Yixing comes there a lot more often in the following weeks. Chanyeol’s roommate Jongin always only shortly glances up from the book he’s reading when they come in. He manages to get along easily with Chanyeol and the tall youth’s easy to talk to as well. So Yixing talks to him a lot about a lot of things. He tells him about Luhan, his one friend when he came here, and about how they haven’t really been talking lately. He also tells him about adapting to the new school, the new country, the unfamiliar system, the intimidating roommate.

Chanyeol laughs so loud at that last part, that Jongin pulls an earphone out of his ear and looks over from his book. There’s nothing quite so infectious as Chanyeol’s laughter, however, so Yixing ends up grinning too even though he doesn’t really think it’s funny at all.

“Yifan’s nothing to be intimidated by, my friend,” Chanyeol eventually says, grin still on his face. “He’s just a guy. He’s not even dangerous. He’s just some kid who’s been given a little too much attention. He ain’t nothing but a big mouth, that one.”

“Strong arms too, though.” It’s the first time Jongin’s said anything other than hello, and Chanyeol instantly looks over at his roommate, just as Yixing does. “I saw him beat a guy up once. I don’t know why, but the guy’s wounds were healing for weeks. You’d still be smart not to piss him off.”

Chanyeol grins. “It’s better not to piss anyone off. And Yixing _is_ a smart guy, I’m sure he knew that already. I don’t think you plan on pissing your roommate off, do you?” The attention turns to him and he grins automatically back at Chanyeol again.

“No, no that wasn’t my intention, as far as I can help it.”

“Well then you should be fine,” Chanyeol pipes up, before turning back to his guitar. “Besides, the guy’s opening the door of your room for you already when people knock. Sounds like you almost got him potty trained.”

They all laugh, then.

 

He spends a lot of time with Jongin and Chanyeol in the following months, comfortable in their presence and happy to count them as his friends. Jongin turns out to be a little shy and prefers to read by himself rather than interact with other people a lot, but he occasionally joins the conversation or listens to them making music.

Eventually it gets to a point where he starts to make it back to his room later than Yifan does some days. Which in turn earns him an interrogation one late morning, when he’s barely awake, Yifan looking over at him the second he returns from having taken his morning shower. There’s a towel on Yifan’s head with which he’s drying his hair, and Yixing’s eyes catch on it temporarily.

“So, you’re spending a lot of time with the guitar kid these days.”

It’s not a question, so Yixing doesn’t answer, just allows himself another moment to wake up. Stretching then, he slowly heaves himself up into an upright position. Yifan’s still looking at him, the towel having stilled around his roommate’s neck. Yixing smiles, unable to stop himself, then tries to make it as cheerful as Chanyeol’s expression would be. Yifan stares at him for a moment longer, then suddenly starts to laugh.

“So, I take it you’re good friends with the guy?” The words are a lot friendlier now, with the laughter still audible in Yifan’s voice.

“Yeah, I guess you could say we are. He’s a cool guy. Chill.”

Yifan huffs.

“Don’t let the cheeky smile and the boyish charm seduce you, Mary. I hear once people end up in Chanyeol’s bed, he ditches them pretty soon after.” It’s Yixing’s turn to laugh, because it’s beyond ridiculous. Him and Chanyeol? That’s a definite no.

“That sounds more like a definition of you, Guiness,” he replies easily, jokingly naming Yifan by his favourite brand of beer. “If we replace boyish charm with bad boy charm, that is.”

A corner of Yifan’s mouth pulls up into a smirk. Amusement laces his expression, but something else as well. Something a lot sharper.

“I hate to disappoint you, Mary,” he says, and Yixing becomes suddenly very self-aware because of the intensity with which Yifan is looking at him. Still, neither one of them breaks the eye contact. “When I make someone end up in my bed, it’s because I plan for him to stay there.”

It’s only a while after Yifan has turned away to get dressed – with Yixing still staring at his back in unveiled surprise – that he realises his roommate spoke specifically about a _him_. It makes him do a double take.

Then he gets the hell out of the room.

 

Chanyeol laughs an hour and a day about Yixing’s face when he tells him about it. A hand lands solidly on his shoulder, something akin to sympathy on Chanyeol’s features when the younger male finally manages to calm himself down. “Oh, Yixing, baby, you’ve got a lot to learn,” he is told a moment later, and he instantly finds himself frowning in confusion. “First of; Yifan and I used to date, like a couple years back. Perhaps you’ve noticed the lingering tension between us.” He’s still grinning, but Yixing’s mind’s gone entirely blank. “I dumped him because he was an asshole, basically. Still is, too, but you know that much.”

Chanyeol throws an arm around his shoulders and sits him down on the bed. “Second, if you ever get an interest in him, consider yourself pre-warned not to follow up on it.”

He truly frowns then, slowly moves away from Chanyeol’s arm and looks over at the younger guy in confusion. “What are you talking about. Why are you telling me this?”

“Because clearly Yifan’s got some sort of interest in you, so I’m just preparing you, in case you’re unable to resist his bad boy charms,” Chanyeol replies as easily and cheerfully as before, and Yixing freezes in his place.

“Why- Why would you think that?”

“Oh come on, Yixing, it’s nothing to be ashamed about. Every person with an eye for guys knows how to appreciate Yifan. You’re not the first and you certainly won’t be the last either.” Chanyeol’s still grinning like it’s somehow funny. Yixing doesn’t think it’s funny at all. He isn’t comfortable at all anymore either.

“I’m not _gay_. What the fuck!?” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, and he instantly wishes he could have toned down on the anger when Chanyeol’s face falls. But then the younger male speaks again, and Yixing feels panic rise in his chest at the words.

“Oh… Oh I thought you’d have figured it out by now. I’m sorry.”

“Figured it out, what the fuck are you talking about?” He finally manages to move again then, pushing past a suddenly clearly bewildered Chanyeol and basically rushing out of the room.

When he storms into his own room again, Yifan rises from his bed in surprise, but Yixing instantly moves away defensively. “Stay the fuck away from me,” he warns, more afraid than threatening. Luckily it still seems to be enough, because Yifan stops in his tracks and doesn’t come any closer anymore.

Unable to stay in the room or anywhere near his roommate, he gathers his phone, keys and a jacket, and heads back out within the same minute.

 

He returns late at night, in hopes of not having to face Yifan, but of course he has no such luck. Yifan’s not just in the room, but awake too, and instantly puts his phone aside when Yixing walks in. He doesn’t speak until Yixing has changed out of his clothes and gotten ready to just crawl into bed and sleep.

“Chanyeol was here, asking about you.” A pause. Perhaps a chance for him to say something. He doesn’t. “He seemed really worried.” There’s a strain on Yifan’s voice as if he’s trying his best to be extra nice. Yixing turns over so he can look at the basketball player, gazes locking instantly when he does so. For once he doesn’t feel intimidated.

“Well maybe he was worried I’m going to spill your little secrets. No worries. I won’t. You can both keep gaying away as you please. I won’t ruin your reputation.” He’s gone too far. He sees it in the darkness that clouds Yifan’s face instantly, the anger in his eyes. Yifan moves so fast that he’s barely got time to put his arms up defensively before he’s suddenly pinned down on his bed, with Yifan’s angry face surprisingly and threateningly close.

“Listen here, _Mary_ , you can assume whatever the _fuck_ you want, but I am _not_ hiding behind any reputation while I’m ‘ _gaying away_.’ My sexuality is not a secret, it just also isn’t part of my standard introduction. Neither is yours, so I’d save the asshole, _straight_ righteousness if I were you. Don’t. Test. Me.” One more shove and Yifan lets him go, walking back to the other side of the room.

Yixing watches him go, a sudden emptiness in his chest, his throat tight. He follows Yifan’s movements with his eyes, belatedly realising that the older male is getting dressed to leave the room. For the second time that day, he panics a little. Only this time he doesn’t know why.

“Yifan, wait.”

Later, much, much later, he would come to realise how much it meant that Yifan actually stops on his way out the door and looks back. Later – much, much later – he would learn that Yifan doesn’t forgive people for anything, especially not that quickly. But in the moment itself, the detail is lost on him.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I just th- I’m sorry.”

It takes a moment, but Yifan nods and Yixing slowly relaxes the fingers of his clenched fists.

“Look,” Yifan says then, turning fully towards him again, and Yixing automatically tenses up once more. “Chanyeol assumed something. He assumed wrong, apparently. It happens more often. But he’s not a bad kid. And he wanted you to know that you don’t have to worry, he doesn’t think of you as more than a friend.”

He tries to relax when he nods, then tries not to sound too constipated when he asks: “What about you?”

In Yifan’s defence, he doesn’t even blink at the question. But the smirk that appears on his face is almost lethal. “Me? What about me?”

“Do you, uh, consider… me... more than a friend?”

Both the silence and the eye contact last to such an extent that Yixing gets entirely uncomfortable, cheeks heating up and probably turning a bright red, but he can’t seem to look away. Not when he’s asked the damn question already. Now he’s just going to have to see it through.

Then, right as he’s about to throw himself out the window, Yifan speaks.

“Whether I am interested in you or not won’t make a difference, Mary. Contrary to some guys, I know consent and I won’t do anything without it. So, you can sleep soundly knowing that I won’t assault you in the middle of the night.”

Yixing can’t help it; he makes a face.

Yifan walks out of the room right after.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess I did write more?  
> More homophobia in this chapter, mostly from Luhan this time around. Be advised.

It’s quiet when Yixing wakes the next morning, and the sound of silence grates his nerves. He crawls out of bed, slowly dragging his limbs along with effort. It’s way too early considering how late he went to sleep, but he doesn’t want to stay in bed and have his mind wonder about the same things over and over until it drives him crazy. So, he walks over to his closet and grabs the first set of clothes he lays eyes on.

By the time he’s fully dressed, he feels tense and annoyed, but he doesn’t know why. Something’s eating at his chest, something’s poking at his mind but staying right out of reach, and it’s driving him up the walls. He leaves the room, only to almost run straight into another guy in the hallway. Another one of those freakishly tall ones, seemingly, do they make any people in this country of regular size?

“Woah,” the stranger says, steadying hands landing on his shoulders temporarily before letting go again. “Sorry about that, Mary. Uh, I mean…” Silence, the tall stranger shrugs sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Yifan always calls you that. I don’t actually know your name. Have you seen him, anyway? He didn’t show up for practice.”

He’s about to reply when the stranger’s cell phone goes off. It gets lifted, caller checked, then the call gets answered. “Yeah? … No, I just got to his room … Oh. Alright. Cool. I’ll be headed back then.” The call is ended again, the tall stranger’s attention turns back to Yixing. “Seems like he showed up. Sorry to bother you, man.” A grin, a nod in greeting, then the guy’s off again.

Yixing looks after him for a long while, far longer than the guy is in sight for. He eventually snaps out of it and walks off, coming to a stop when he reaches Chanyeol’s room. Before he can knock, the door is opened and Chanyeol stops short on his way out, barely avoiding the second collision of the day. Still, Chanyeol’s expression brightens upon seeing him, frown turning into smile instantly.

“Yixing.” Nothing has changed about the happiness that sits in every inch of Chanyeol’s smile. “I’m glad I caught you here! Sehun just texted me, said you looked off.” There’s worry in Chanyeol’s face then, in his voice. Yixing doesn’t really know how to respond to that, so he just stays quiet. Chanyeol is sensitive enough, or knows him well enough, to understand however, because he calmly steps aside and motions to the room. “You want to come in?”

He nods, then walks inside quietly.

 

They sit in the silence for a while. Jongin isn’t around for a change, but he’s more relieved than anything about that fact. Chanyeol’s strategically placed himself on the bed, while Yixing has been offered the desk chair, an offer he has gratefully taken. His limbs are all folded into the chair with surprising precision, his gaze wandering over every piece of decoration in the room as long as it enables him not to look at his friend.

Friend. _Friend_.

It’s such a strange way to think of Chanyeol now after the revelation, but at the same time he remembers hours upon hours of guitar playing and the general atmosphere of camaraderie. Eventually he shifts his gaze and looks at the younger male.

Chanyeol’s looking at him, too, and the sudden eye contact surprises him so much he starts for a moment. Then he forces himself to relax, a sheepish smile spreading automatically on his features before he quickly glances away again.

“I uh…” He starts, but there is really no sentence coming up in his head to follow up on those words.

So the quiet lasts a little bit longer, only now the silence becomes expectant, Chanyeol clearly waiting for him to finish talking. When it becomes extremely obvious that he does not plan on doing so, there is the sound of Chanyeol taking a breath to speak.

“I’m sorry,” the younger says, and Yixing feels a sour kind of tightness in his chest, expression crunching up for a moment. Then he breathes out a sigh and shakes his head a little.

“You… You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I, uh…” He falls quiet once again, doesn’t know which words would best be used to explain himself, to sound as an apology.

“You neither,” Chanyeol says before he can try to think of anything at all. “Not to me, at least.”

For a moment he panics. Wonders if Yifan has spoken to Chanyeol about their conversation from the night before, if Chanyeol knows all those embarrassing things he’s said. And done. Wonders if anyone else knows of the total and utter flop he’s made of himself.

Then he glances up and spots the bright, friendly smile that still manages to find its way to Chanyeol’s features in his presence, and he figures no one could look at him like that while knowing what a dick comment he’d made just hours before.

He smiles back tentatively, hopes he won’t have to explain himself. Hopes they’re not going to have to talk about gay people for a few hours on end now.

Luckily Chanyeol grabs his guitar the next second and pulls it up to be able to play.

“I got this kickass melody stuck in my head last night, I wanted to let you listen to,” the younger guy says with an excited grin. It’s all too easy to just focus on the music and forget the rest, and Yixing gladly does exactly that.

 

If he thought he didn’t get to see much of Yifan before, he becomes quite aware of how untrue that was in the following weeks. There is absolutely no sign of Yifan whatsoever and considering they don’t really have to be in the same parts of the university aside from their dorm, he doesn’t even catch glimpses of the guy in the distance.

It comes to a point where he lays in bed late one night, wide awake, and wonders if Yifan actually even still sleeps there.

Right then, there’s a sound at the door and moments later the lock clicks open. Soon enough the light falling in from the hallway reveals Yifan’s silhouette in the doorway. There’s an awkward moment of silence as Yifan stills upon realising he’s still awake and Yixing just kind of squints dumbly over at the door.

For a split second, he wonders if Yifan’s just going to turn around and leave again, but then the basketball player steps inside and closes the door behind him, the room going dark once more. There’s some shuffling noises as Yifan tries to find his way in the dark, then the thud of a body part hitting the bedframe.

A muffled curse follows, after which there is a moment of silence and then a deep, annoyed sigh.

“Hey, I’m going to turn on the light, so close your eyes if you don’t want to be blinded.” A pause. The sharpness of Yifan’s voice doesn’t go past him. “Don’t worry, I won’t try to sneak a _gay_ look at you with my _gay_ eyes. I’d just like to find my clothes and sleep too. You know, the _gay_ way.”

Yixing frowns at the thinly veiled sarcasm but doesn’t have anything to say in return to it. So he just stays quiet, closing his eyes as told. It’s not long before the light does indeed flicker on, and he allows himself a moment of getting used to the change in brightness. He opens his eyes again after, trying to catch a glimpse of Yifan.

The elder is rummaging through the stuff on his side of the room to find some clothes – probably ones to sleep in. Then, when hands find the right fabric, a glance is cast in his direction and Yifan’s eyes instantly lock with his.

“Well then,” is said in that same sharp sort of tone. “Look who’s the pervert now. Like what you see, straight guy? Should I call campus security, or do you prefer a striptease instead?”

Yifan actually pulls his shirt over his head and shakes it above his head in a mock imitation of a striptease, but the expression on his face never loses any of the hostility. Yixing flushes a bright red at both the insult as the action, and quickly turns his gaze away from his roommate.

“Oh, look at you prude. It’s just a chest. Pretty sure you’ve seen one of these before. On literally any guy outside in hot weather deciding to take off his shirt. Or is this one more offensive because I’m gay?”

The light is slammed back out again and Yixing’s left staring ahead of himself in the darkness. He decides it’s probably wiser not to say anything else, and no sound comes from Yifan’s side of the room anymore either.

 

It’s only a few days later when he meets Luhan in the hallway. There’s the awkward sort of pause where they both wonder whether they should be saying something or not, then Luhan smiles at him tentatively.

“Hey,” is the go-to greeting, and Yixing smiles back automatically.

“Hi there.”

“It’s been a while,” Luhan says and Yixing hums in agreement. “I, uh… So how you been?”

“Yeah, I’ve been okay.”

It’s awkward and he doesn’t know why. Not when they used to be able to talk so freely. Probably time, although it feels more like the awkwardness stems mostly from Luhan.

“I heard you got into a fight with your roommate. You okay?”

He doesn’t know how Luhan could have heard about that, then considers the past couple of weeks and people’s tendency to talk.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. Just words.”

Luhan nods, glances at his phone then back up at Yixing.

“Look, I-” A sigh. “I’m sorry I stopped talking to you, but I’m sure you understand how it looked to us.”

He frowns, confused, and obviously Luhan understands because more of an explanation follows without him having to ask for it.

“Well, you were getting along so well with Yifan despite, you know…” A shrug, like that explains whatever ‘you know’ actually is. “I assumed you were aware but of course you had no way of knowing. I should have told you, I apologise. It must be awful to have to share a room with him.”

Another pause, but he doesn’t respond, stunned into silence.

“I’m sure we could arrange a dorm transfer for you. all you need to do is file a complaint that you don’t feel okay with…”

He stops listening, suddenly fully aware of what Luhan means, and how casually he talks about it, like it’s totally normal to screw with someone’s life just because they don’t fit your idea of how a person should behave or think.

Disgusted, he realises suddenly, by the disdain clearly visible on Luhan’s features. He finds himself thinking of Chanyeol with his bright grin and his guitar, imagining Luhan talking like that about the younger male. He feels like he’s betraying his friend just by listening to this without speaking up.

“Honestly, I don’t get why they don’t just ban this type of people from the school grounds,” Luhan’s saying just then, and something suddenly snaps inside of him. “It can’t be safe for them to be arou-”

He punches Luhan square in the face.

 

Yifan finds him on the rooftop later that night, and when Yixing looks up at the sound of the door opening, he instantly notices the sharpness is gone from the taller male’s features.

“Heard you punched someone, Mary. How bad is the damage?”

He’s unfamiliar with the look he’s given but tries not to let it make him feel uncomfortable. Instead his eyes focus on the wet towel with melting ice cubes inside that he’s got pressed to his knuckles.

“I’ll live,” he mutters. Yifan snorts.

“Yes, I can see that. I meant the other guy.” This time the amusement is unmistakeable in Yifan’s voice and Yixing feels himself grow annoyed all of a sudden, feeling like he’s being made fun of.

“It’s not funny,” he grumbles, but Yifan is unphased by the tone.

“Oh, sure it is. Immensely so, even,” the basketball player counters, as the grin now becomes visible on his features as well. “You punched someone for talking shit about gay people. What’s the word for that these days? Hypocrisy?”

There is nothing he can say to that, but he isn’t up for listening to Yifan gloat either, so he shoulders past his roommate to get the hell out of there. Only Yifan doesn’t seem to understand the frown etched into his forehead and the annoyance simmering beneath the surface, doesn’t seem to realise this is a good moment to just let him go.

“Yixing, wait.”

He stops. It’s almost like déjà-vu, only last time he was in Yifan’s shoes. He doesn’t turn around either, but merely waits for whatever else it is the guy wants to throw at his head.

“Let me see that fist, you might have injured yourself.”

For a moment he considers just walking through the door and leaving whatever this is Yifan’s doing behind on the rooftop. But then he belatedly realises his roommate used his actual name rather than the nickname, and his hand does hurt like shit, so he slowly turns around.

“Just… Stop with the jabs already, I’m not in the mood,” he mutters, still annoyed.

Yifan’s already stepping closer, pulling the icepack from his hand and checking out his knuckles.

“Sure thing, Mary, no more jabs.” A thumb brushes over his bruised skin, then Yifan looks back up at him, still grinning. “For today.”

 

Yifan ends up telling him that it could have been worse, that he could have broken a finger. He hums something of an agreement, then places the ice pack back on his bruised knuckles. His head seems filled with fog, his thoughts jumbled and confused. He doesn’t quite catch what else his roommate says as he stares out at the city around them.

“Mary? Hey, Mary?” The sound suddenly fades back in, but he can’t respond quick enough before he’s punched in the shoulder. “Yo, earth to Bloody. Let’s go celebrate!”

He frowns in confusion, turning his head to face his roommate. “Celebrate what?”

“This rare act of straight superiority being used to fight homophobia, of course!” Yifan grins at him. “I’d call you cool if you weren’t such a dick most of the time. Now come on, let’s get the hell out of here and grab a drink.”

He doesn’t get a chance to protest as Yifan walks off, his roommate disappearing through the rooftop doors before he can even properly voice any possible disagreement. After a moment’s thought, however, he follows the older male out.

They find a bar to get a drink at quite easily. Yixing gives up trying to pay for their drinks after his third attempt is once again parried by Yifan’s protests. Somewhere after the fourth drink, his hand stops hurting too, so he tucks the wet towel away and just enjoys the night out with a friend.

Friend. _Friend_.

He doesn’t know if he can get used to the concept of Yifan being such.

 

“Up, Mary, wake up man!”

He groans, rolls over and pulls his pillow over his head, unwilling to wake up just yet.

“Hey, your mother called a little after sunrise. I told her you were trying to regain your energy after that wild, gay orgy you had last night. She wanted you to call her back once you’d come to your senses.”

The laughter that follows tells him they’re not alone, but he doesn’t care. At least not about that. Throwing both pillow and blanket off himself, he shoots up straight with a panicked: “Tell me you didn’t actually say that?” His head spins for a moment after the sudden movement, then starts throbbing heavily, but his eyes still find his roommate amidst all the people present in their room somehow.

“Why should I lie to you, Mary? Better ‘regain your energy’ fast and call her back, she sounded worried.” Yifan’s still grinning, as are the other guys from the basketball team, but he still pays them no mind, scrambling to get a hold of his phone.

He nearly knocks his night light over in the process but ignores that too as he searches his mother’s number almost frantically. The adrenaline rushes through his veins as he presses the call button and brings the phone up to his ear. From the door opening, Yifan catches his attention with a slight hand motion. The rest of the team seems to have filed out of the room already.

“Relax, Mary,” he is told in an almost soothing voice, a slight frown creasing his roommate’s forehead. “I just told her you were still asleep and that I’d tell you she called. No need to be so paranoid.”

The relief is so big and instant that he sags in his seat. Yifan snorts at the movement, shakes his head, then leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

With his heart beating wildly in his ears, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment and a still nauseatingly throbbing head, he listens to his mother answer the phone.

 

“I noticed you and Guiness are tight again.”

Yixing makes a face but can’t help grinning at the nickname Chanyeol has started using now too.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘tight’ but at least he’s not just throwing insults at me anymore. Now there’s the occasional joke too.”

Chanyeol chuckles, taking another sip of his coffee after.

“I did tell you he’s an ass. Should have listened,” the dark-haired youth says and Yixing grins again.

“Well, he told me you’re something of a Casanova. Should I listen to that too?” He phrases it as a joke, but Chanyeol gives an almost solemn nod of his head.

“Oh, yes, definitely. But you’re not my type so you don’t have to worry.”

“Who is your type anyway?” And it is genuine curiosity that keeps him waiting for the answer, wanting to know what type of guys his friend considers attractive. Chanyeol gives him a momentary look, as if judging whether or not he’s serious, then suddenly beams one of his usual bright smiles again.

“Well, I like my guys tall – like Yifan. You already fall short there, forgive me the pun. I also like them athletic – another area where you completely fail to deliver.” Chanyeol’s joking and Yixing actually laughs, amused by the truth of it. “I also like a bit of a spark, a sense of adventure, a certain unpredictability…”

Suddenly Chanyeol’ hums. “I’ve actually always had an eye on Sehun – well both eyes really – but he is so very, very disappointingly straight and I just _love_ his girlfriend, she is the cutest. I met her while I was dating Yifan and we still talk more often. Truly a shame, though. I tell her that all the time, of course. She has already agreed that if she ever decides to let Sehun go, she’ll pass him on to me. But then, who would ever let such a fine piece of man go?”

Chanyeol sighs almost dreamily and Yixing chuckles amused, shaking his head lightly.

“Are you currently seeing anyone?” He inquires good-naturedly. Chanyeol nods, taking another good sip of his coffee before replying.

“Oh yes, several someones actually.”

The words, spoken so casually like they’re no big deal, hit like a punch to the gut and Yixing stops short. “What, you’re cheating?” he instantly asks, voice sharper than he intended it to be. It’s a curious look Chanyeol sends him at first, then a reassuring smile follows.

“Of course not. They’re all very aware I keep both an open mind and an open heart. It’s a mutual agreement, all parties are up to date.”

The words only mollify him slightly, the concept a little too abstract for his morals to just accept, but he nods in understand anyway and continues walking.

“What about you?” Chanyeol asks after a moment. “Any girls you’ve set your sights on? What’s your type anyway?”

He’s quiet for a moment, considering, then decides to go for the truth. “I don’t know.” He shrugs a little sheepishly. “I’ve never really had an interest like that in someone before.”

“What!?” This time it’s Chanyeol’s turn to come to a full stop and give him an incredulous look. “Alright,” is then said, a sparkle of amusement appearing in the younger male’s gaze. “Tell me _everything_.”

 

“How’s your roommate, that boy I spoke to on the phone. You never tell me about him. How come?”

He’s quiet for a while as his mind automatically wanders over to Yifan. He knows it’s a suspiciously long time, but he can’t seem to find anything to say to soothe her worries and answer her question at the same time. He can’t hardly tell her he’s rooming with an asshole who also happens to be gay.

“Darling? Is something wrong?”

He sighs, temporarily closes his eyes and runs his fingers over his forehead.

“No mom, I’m fine. We’re just not really friends is all. He’s a little mean. I mean, he’s okay towards me, but he can be a bit harsh. I don’t really hang out with him much.”

“You don’t?” He hears a hint of disappointment in her voice and wonders what Yifan said to his mother to make her like him so much. “That’s too bad. I thought it would be nice for you to have a Chinese roommate. And he was so polite too.”

Yixing tries his utter best to imagine a polite Yifan but fails miserably. The best he can come up with is Yifan using a neutral way of speaking, but clearly his mother has been privy to a side of his roommate he’s never seen before.

“Well, darling, are you eating enough? Do you need me to send you more money?”

“No mom, I’m good. Thank you, but you don’t have to worry. I’ll let you know if I’m in need of money.”

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get to that point, considering his mother keeps dutifully wiring big amounts of money over to his current account that he could never spent before the next transfer. But that’s not something he’ll tell her, knowing she only does it because she cares. And if he ever does end up in an emergency, at least he won’t have to starve.

“Okay, honey. Stay safe. I miss you and I love you.”

He smiles despite himself, closing his eyes again temporarily as he imagines how she would be fixing his collar or smoothing over his hair right now if they were together.

“Yeah, me too mom. I’ll talk to you soon okay? Bye”

“Bye honey.”

 

Spring comes with an increase in the workload given by his profs, as well as the sudden and complete invasion of his room by the basketball team almost every Friday night. He tries to ignore the ruckus, but the third week in a row, he simply can’t handle it anymore. Calmly gathering his phone and earphones, he gets up from his bed and heads for the door.

“Hey, Mary, where you going?” somebody asks from behind him, and he looks back to see the entire team’s attention is on him. He feels unsettled for a moment, then focuses his gaze on Yifan.

“I’m gonna see if Chanyeol’s got some free, quiet space where I can sleep. No offence but you guys are obnoxiously loud.”

There’s an almost unanimous groan coming from the entire team at his words, but a victorious, smug grin blooms on Yifan’s face.

“Told ya,” the basketball captain says to his team, raising a hand at them palm upwards and clearly waiting for something to be given to him. One by one the team members pull out their wallets and put some money on Yifan’s hand, which the eldest eventually pockets with that same satisfied grin still tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You guys… Bet… On whether I would leave?” Yixing asks, incredulous, but he’s not looking at the entire team, he’s just looking at Yifan. He still doesn’t really know any of the others yet. Although he _can_ pick Sehun out of a crowd now, courtesy of Chanyeol.

“Well, technically we bet on whether or not you would say something about it _before_ you would find somewhere else to sleep. They all thought you would.” Yifan raises his eyebrows lightly, as if daring him to comment on it, but he just looks at his roommate for a bit longer in silence.

“Good for you,” he eventually says, turning around and exiting the room after all. He only makes it a few steps down the hallway before the door opens again behind him.

“Hey, Mary?”

He only stops because Yifan’s voice doesn’t sound as smug anymore as it did just moments before, and glances back halfway.

“Since you helped me earn this money, you should help me spend it too. I’ll buy you lunch tomorrow.” Yifan flashes him a grin that could almost be called friendly, but he’s not given a chance to reply – or decline, like he intended to do – before his roommate already retreats back inside.

“Goodnight, Mary!” A few voices call from inside his own room, a bout of laughter following it, but he pays it no mind and simply continues on his way.

 

It turns out Chanyeol’s not actually at his dorm room, but Jongin lets him in after a quick explanation and he is assured he can just use Chanyeol’s bed because the other male won’t be coming back that night.

Admittedly it’s a little strange to be in the room with just Jongin; a sharp reminder of how little he actually knows about Chanyeol’s roommate, but he decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth and crawls between the blankets. They smell like Chanyeol, a fact he notes only after a few moments of lying there, and he suddenly finds himself realising what it probably means that Chanyeol won’t be back in the room for the entire night.

“You took it quite well.” Jongin’s voice breaks the silence right as he’s about to start imagining all kinds of things he doesn’t want to imagine, and he almost breathes a sigh of relief because of it. He turns his head in the direction of the younger male, who’s got a book open on his lap but is currently looking over at him.

“Took… what quite well?” He inquires a little hesitantly, wondering if he really wants to be having the conversation that will follow.

“Everything. Chanyeol told me what happened. I didn’t think you’d come back, but then you did, and you’re still friends with him. Not many people work like that.”

Jongin’s eyes have a certain shine to them courtesy of his nightlight, and Yixing finds himself looking at them in silence for a very long time. Does he accept the sort-of compliment and thank Jongin, or does he keep on pretending he has no idea what the younger is talking about. Does he admit that he was being a douche before when he stormed out of the room, or does he pretend like none of it ever happened?

“I’m sorry,” Jongin says before he can make up his mind. “It’s not really any of my business. Forget I said anything.”

The younger male turns his attention back to his book, but Yixing doesn’t fail to notice the slight reddening of his cheeks, and for a moment he feels almost apologetic.

“No, it’s, uh… It’s fine.” Jongin’s attention returns to him slowly, but he’s the one to glance away this time. Admitting to your own shortcomings is never easy, especially not to strangers, and even less so when you’re looking right at them – or that’s his finding. “I judged too harshly too soon,” he admits after a moment’s silence, then sighs and runs a hand over his face. “Would be nice if it could stop following me around, though.”

“I’m sorry,” Jongin says once again, and Yixing quickly waves away the apology.

“No, I don’t mean you. Just… Other people.” He makes a face, thinking of his roommate and the continuous bugging and bullying. “Anyway, I’m glad you think I took it well. I personally feel like I took it rather horribly instead.” He grins sheepishly, then shrugs, and Jongin smiles back at him.

“Don’t worry, there’s far worse people than you.”

An image of Luhan comes to mind, of how he punched the guy in the face, but he doesn’t say anything. After a moment, Jongin nods lightly.

“Well, goodnight Yixing.”

It’s almost strange to be called by his actual name rather than ‘Mary’, but he smiles automatically because of it and nods his head too.

“Goodnight Jongin.”

 

Lunch, it turns out, is simple but mandatory. Yifan walks into the room at twelve thirty, locks the door, puts the key in his pocket and proceeds to display an assortment of take out foods on the floor in between their beds. He doesn’t protest for the simple fact that he _is_ hungry, and it smells good. They eat in silence, mostly because Yixing simply refuses to respond to any of Yifan’s attempts at conversation.

When he’s full, he gets up from the floor and heads back over to his desk. It’s quiet for a moment, then he hears the click of the lock as Yifan unlocks the door again.

“Let’s agree to be honest with each other for the next five minutes, alright?” His roommate’s voice cuts through the silence almost harshly and Yixing automatically turns to look at him. Yifan’s eyes seem to be able to pierce right through him, or at least are attempting to, and Yixing finds himself growing extremely uncomfortable. Still, he forces himself not to break the eye contact, not to show exactly how strong of a presence his roommate is.

“Okay.”

Yifan nods, then looks down at his soda cup for a moment before his eyes move back up. This time Yixing is more comfortable with the gaze resting on him, because it is softer. More searching and less demanding. The silence lasts for a while and he almost wonders if this is going to be another one of Yifan’s jokes – that they can only be honest with each other when they’re quiet. But eventually his roommate does speak.

“What’s your problem with me? At first I thought it was the gay thing, but you seem to get along with Chanyeol just fine. So what is it about me that you hate so much?”

He can’t help it; he grins. More out of disbelief than anything else, really. “You mean besides the fact that you’re a first-class asshole?” A chuckle follows the words automatically, even though he expects Yifan to be angry. Surprisingly his roommate’s expression doesn’t change, however, and Yixing is left looking at a serious face for a few moments.

Then he figures; fuck it. If Yifan wants honesty, then honest he will be.

“You’re rude, you’re loud and you will use every given opportunity to knock me down. How exactly do you expect me to like you?”

“You know I’m just joking most of the time, right?” It’s an honest question as well, so Yixing continues to give an honest answer.

“It’s not always funny to me. Sometimes it’s just hurtful. Sometimes I’m too tired. Sometimes it’s not actually nice to have a whole basketball team of people I don’t know laughing at me.” Yifan seems to be taking his words to heart, so he makes sure to keep going. “And sometimes I would just like for at least my own room – the only private space I have in this entire country – to be a safe haven of sorts. Somewhere I can relax and don’t have to worry about how I look or what I say.”

“Well I want that too, but then you went ahead and--”

“Oh fuck that, Yifan!” He doesn’t care that he interrupts the older male. He doesn’t care that his tone is annoyed. He doesn’t care that Yifan’s eyebrows shoot up and that his gaze darkens. He doesn’t even feel the usual fear at remembering the guy Yifan beat up. “It’s been over a month since that happened. I have apologised, you have directed countless insults about it towards me and have taken every opportunity you could get to bring it up yet again. Will you let. It. Go already!?”

His eyes never leave Yifan’s as he pauses, but only shortly.

“I’m sorry, okay, I made an assumption and I assumed wrong. I hurt you or insulted you or stereotyped you, or whatever the fuck it is you can’t seem to get over. Fine. Whatever. How am I going to be a better person if you’re going to keep judging me and treating me based on what I said that _one_ time?”

The silence that follows is deafening after his outburst and Yifan just stands looking at him with an unreadable but sort of perplexed expression on his face. He suddenly gets scared of what his roommate might reply – or do – so he gets up from his chair, grabs his phone and quickly sticks his feet in his shoes.

“The five minutes are up.”

He leaves the room before the silence can turn into another battlefield.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is voting day. This is me procrastinating on going to vote. You're welcome.

“Do you think I went too far?”

Chanyeol looks at him in silence for a while, then shakes his head lightly.

“I usually go by ‘you can’t decide when what you said or did stops hurting someone,’ but I know from experience that sometimes he needs to be reminded that enough is enough. So I’d say no. I think you were just polite enough about it to be okay.”

“Maybe,” Jongin suddenly says and Yixing’s gaze moves over to the youngest in the room. “But you’re biased against him, Chanyeol, don’t try to deny it.” Jongin’s gaze rests on Chanyeol a moment longer before it moves to Yixing himself. “If I were you, I’d still apologise when you see him again. You did lose your temper and he is older.”

For some reason, the words seem to strike a chord inside of him and he resonates with the echo of them for a while, considering the advice. Then he nods, looking back up at Jongin.

“You’re probably right.”

 

Yifan is once again gone for days, out doing who knows what and sleeping who knows where. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to find the older male. Then one day, almost a week later, Yifan finds him. It’s not very long after he returns to the room himself that the door opens and Yifan walks in, closing it behind himself again.

Yixing automatically looks up at the sound, then finds himself face to face with his roommate quite unexpectedly. He stutters for a moment, then regains himself.

“Hi.” It’s the stupidest greeting ever, but Yifan doesn’t seem to mind, too preoccupied perhaps by his own thoughts.

“So you really don’t like me, do you?” The question is spoken almost softly, especially for Yifan’s standards, so Yixing needs a moment to find himself and consider the truth.

“I don’t dislike you either,” he says then. “I mean, you beat a guy up for me, I still appreciate that. And you tried to keep the room liveable for me. You could bring your team over every day but you don’t.” He pauses, makes use of the moment to put his bag down, then looks back up at Yifan. “I’m sorry for losing it. I should have kept it together better and not raised my voice at you. I was out of line.”

Yifan hums, nods, then looks right at him. “But you still stand by what you said, don’t you?” The question almost dares him to lie, but he doesn’t.

“Yes. Although I should have probably worded it a little better, less rude. And I’d also like to add that if you can’t get over it, that is completely fine as well, but then we should probably look into swapping roommates somehow, so we can both feel safe in our room again.” He doesn’t know how pretentious he sounds in that moment but doesn’t worry about it. After all, there’s only so much he can decide on his own without becoming an ass himself.

“Sounds good,” Yifan says after a moment, and Yixing feels his stomach do a strange kind of lurch, but he merely nods. “Though I don’t think it’ll be necessary. We’ll make it work.” Eyes suddenly seem to want to pierce right through him again as his roommate adds: “Won’t we?”

He doesn’t let it phase him, doesn’t let Yifan get under his skin again, and instead gives another nod.

“Okay.”

Yifan nods too, after which they’re left looking at each other seemingly both not knowing what to say. Then, Yifan simply turns around and leaves the room again without saying another word.

 

It’s not necessarily hard to pretend nothing problematic happened between them, but it’s not entirely easy either. Something still seems to sit between them like a tiny little stumbling point, but he can’t figure out what or why.

When he tells Chanyeol about it, the younger male advises him to just try and bring it up with Yifan since the previous conversation seemed to have gone well. He doesn’t entirely like the idea, but there’s probably not any better option.

However, when he gets back to the room that night, Yifan’s hugging some other guy and the sight of it is so sudden and unexpected that all he knows how to do is mumble out an apology and walk right back out.

He wanders the hallways for a bit with his guitar still strapped over his shoulder, then eventually decides to just go outside so he can play a little more. He settles down on the basketball court, quite certain no one’s going to be around there anymore so late at night. Plucking at the strings of his guitar, he lets his mind wander off to other things.

“You’re quite good.” It’s Sehun’s voice that breaks through the cycle of his thoughts returning to the sight of Yifan hugging the other guy so close and intimate, its owner walking up to him with an easy smile on his face. “Guess that’s why Chanyeol plays with you. Only the best for him.” The basketball player grins at him and he smiles back.

It’s hard not to feel like he knows the other well after all Chanyeol’s told him about Sehun, so he’s a lot more at ease than he used to be.

“You play long?” Sehun asks next and he gives a small nod of his head.

“Yeah. Mom made me take piano lessons when I was young and a few years later I decided to take up guitar too. I like it.”

Sehun smiles again, and Yixing finds himself looking at all the little details of Sehun’s face and smile that Chanyeol has told him about. The realisation that most things are true and not just Chanyeol’s exaggerated admiration makes him smile, and Sehun’s own smile widens automatically because of it, proving what Chanyeol had said about the younger male being a nice guy.

Silence falls between them and Sehun calmly checks his phone, perhaps to see if his girlfriend has sent anything. After a moment, though, he looks up again and Yixing finds himself looking at the details of that smile once more.

“Yifan says to tell you it’s safe for you to go back to the room.”

A million questions rise up in him instantly. Most prominently; how does Yifan know Sehun is with him? But before he can ask anything about that, Sehun’s phone rings and the younger male gets up to leave after one glance at the screen.

“I gotta take this. Have a good night, Yixing.” Sehun turns around and walks away, bringing the phone up to his ear as he does so. “Hey babe. Got back okay?” Yixing still hears him say, then watches how the younger male walks away from him.

 

When he gets back to the room, Yifan is sitting on his bed for a change, playing with his phone. Yixing frowns lightly for a moment, then just head for his own side of the room to put away his guitar.

“Sorry about earlier,” Yifan tells him, and he glances over at his roommate.

“That’s fine. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything,” he replies after a moment, shrugging lightly. Yifan has a little, smug smirk on his face that doesn’t indicate much good, but it surprisingly disappears after a moment to be replaced by what seems to be an actual smile.

“You didn’t, don’t worry. He was having a rough day, so I was just comforting him.”

The thought of Yifan comforting someone is as strange as Yifan being polite, and Yixing almost wishes he could have been a fly on the wall to know exactly how Yifan would be doing this ‘comforting’ thing. Instead of mentioning anything like that, however, he thinks of what Yifan has said exactly and frowns lightly once more.

“I’m sorry. I hope he’ll feel better and things will get better soon,” he responds, wondering who ‘he’ is exactly and hoping that nothing too bad has happened to them. Yifan lets out a groan to his words and he looks up, surprised by the sound.

“God, you’re so fucking _nice_ ,” he’s told in an almost rough voice and he bristles lightly, ready to get offended because what could be wrong with that? But before he can voice out some sort of protest, Yifan speaks again. “It’s so damn attractive.”

His speech fails, as his brain seems to as well, and absolute silence follows the words. Yixing’s staring at Yifan motionlessly, with one hand still holding the zipper of his guitar case. The older male’s gaze is focused on his phone again as if nothing out of the ordinary was said, but it moves back to him when the silence lasts. Only then does Yifan seem to realise what he’s said.

The eye contact lasts for a surprisingly long time as Yixing wonders what he’s supposed to say or think after that comment and Yifan is looking at him intently. Then his roommate smiles – another one of those actual, genuine smiles that are both strangely beautiful and yet absolutely strange at once – and the tension in his chest suddenly tightens into a ball.

“Hey man, no worries, I’m just saying stuff,” Yifan is quick to reassure him next, but he’s already moving. His hand lets go of the guitar case as he walks around his bed and heads over to Yifan’s.

Surprisingly Yifan’s eyes flash with something akin to regret, and maybe even a hint of uncertainty – if not to say fear – but it doesn’t stop him in his tracks. Reaching for Yifan’s collar with his hand, he nearly yanks the older guy up from the bed.

 

Yifan is the one to speak first.

“Well then…”

Embarrassment and stress bundle together in his chest, alongside something else he can’t quite put a name on. Before he can put himself in motion, however, there’s a hand placed on his shoulder that feels like it’s made of lead.

“No. Don’t go.” A pause. Tentative silence. A heartbeat of hesitation. “Please.”

Yifan never says please. He knows this of all things by now. He also knows Yifan has never spoken to anyone in this soft tone of voice before. So he takes a deep breath and tries to swallow down the heaviness in his chest and say something. Anything.

He can’t.

“Are you okay?”

The tightness in his chest curls into a ball again at the question. He’s not used to the softness, to the concern in Yifan’s voice. He can’t handle it, either. He pushes himself up, forcing the hand to slide off his shoulder, and makes a break for the door.

“Gonna walk,” he manages to croak out before he’s out of the door entirely, pulling it closed behind him and basically fleeing the scene.

 

He walks around for hours in the dark, aimlessly.

Eventually he decides to call his mother, then proceeds to cry on the phone for half an hour.

In the end, he still can’t bear to tell her the truth.

He tells her he misses home instead.

 

He returns to the room as the sun rises in the east.

Yifan is still there, still awake too, and the moment Yixing opens the door, relief replaces the worry on the taller male’s face. Guilt instantly springs up in him again, but he can’t even look at his roommate without instantly averting his gaze in shame.

“Hey,” Yifan says, and he shortly glances over to acknowledge the greeting before looking away again. “I won’t tell anyone. Don’t worry.”

He’s instantly reminded of the time he said those words himself, with none of the softness Yifan puts in them now, and he feels even more guilty than before.

“Won’t let it make things awkward either, so can you try to do the same?”

He frowns lightly, then heavier, then feels the tears for some reason fill his eyes again already. This time Yifan’s with him before he can flee the room again, a hand resting on his on the door handle, the other gently taking hold of his shoulder.

“Hey. It’s okay. No hard feelings, okay?” He hears the smile in Yifan’s voice, the care, the _comfort_. And as he thinks ‘ah, like this,’ he leans forward and buries himself in his roommate’s chest and hold. Yifan’s arms enclose him, safety suddenly enveloping him as the hands come to a rest on his back.

“Next time just don’t forget to ask for permission, though.” Yifan’s voice is soft and light, trying to make all of it less heavy for him. He appreciates the gesture but can’t even seem to find a pinprick of lightness in himself. Then Yifan’s voice turns absolutely serious as he speaks again.

“Although you have mine.”

He’s pretty sure he stops breathing altogether in that moment, and that that is the only reason why he hears the even softer-spoken word that follows.

“Always.”

 

He doesn’t know how they manage to stand being so close together for such a long time – bodies pressing together in the hug without interruption – without a single sarcastic or hurtful word being spoken. It’s almost as if they manage to finally understand each other when they’re so close together, as if their brains finally figured out the same wavelength for that amount of time.

Yifan holds on to him as he tries his utter best to recompose himself, and then Yifan holds him as he simply never ends up pulling away even though the tears have subsided again already, and he is merely standing there just to enjoy the closeness of having someone else nearby. He is suddenly, painfully reminded how long he’s been away from home for by then and how much he actually truly misses having someone around to care for him and soothe the tiny hurts of the days away with their simple presence.

Somewhere in time he starts to doze off where he’s standing, though, the lack of sleep from that night taking its toll and the exhaustion hitting him now that he’s no longer stressed to his very core. The weariness runs bone-deep it seems, so much so that Yifan eventually has to shift to keep supporting his weight, and he only realises that when his roommate speaks.

“You should get some sleep, you’re exhausted,” he’s told. There’s some comment in the back of his mind about Yifan not having gotten any more sleep most probably, but it never makes it out past his lips. Instead he follows where the arms guide him, only taking the time to kick his shoes off before he lies down on the mattress and curls up to sleep.

He barely registers the feeling of a blanket being put over him, and then the gentle dipping of the mattress as someone sits down on it. Then he’s out.

 

He wakes up disoriented and groggy, a headache sleeping behind his eyes. Without giving it another thought, he buries deeper into the warmth surrounding him, then stiffens when he remembers exactly where he is and realises exactly what he’s doing.

“Good morning,” Yifan tells him, the voice sounding up close to his ear. He shivers involuntarily, but it doesn’t seem to bother his roommate. “Or should I say afternoon?”

He pushes himself up, pulling away from the warmth and blinking at the light surrounding him. He squints at the brightness, rubs his face and then finds himself looking straight at his roommate, who smiles lightly at him.

“Shower time?” Yifan asks after a moment and he accepts the excuse to get away with a sense of relief, giving a quick nod of his head before getting out of bed. He grabs hold of his towel and clothes, then disappears into the hallway to get himself cleaned up in the bathroom and hopefully find some peace of mind too.

 

The latter is, of course, unattainable, but at least he smells a lot better when he enters the room again twenty minutes later. Yifan is still there, but out of bed and dressed this time. With Yixing’s phone pressed against his ear and a warm smile on his features, he notices to his great horror a mere moment later as he pulls the door closed behind him.

“Yes of course. There is plenty opportunity for good food here and many Chinese people,” the older male is saying in perfectly flowing Mandarin. “We know where to find each other, he’s not alone. Ah, and he just walked in. I’ll pass you to him. Yes. Goodbye misses Zhang.”

The phone is reached out to him with a smile and a shrug, then Yifan turns away to get back to his own stuff. Yixing brings the phone to his ear almost hesitantly so and turns to drop his towel over his chair before saying: “Hello mom.”

“Darling! I was just calling to see how you were doing today. That is really such a nice roommate you have. What’s his name again? I didn’t catch it before.”

He smiles, glances over at the topic of conversation and then, as he realises what he’s doing, he quickly looks away again, expression going neutral even as his face heats up ever so slightly.

“Yifan,” he says, pretending not to hear his roommate turn around at the sound of his name. “Wu Yifan. And I’m fine, mom, you don’t have to worry.”

He pretends that’s not the biggest lie he’s ever told.

“I always worry, my darling. Especially when you call me in the middle of the night, crying.”

“I understand. I’m sorry. I’m feeling better now, so don’t worry.”

She sighs, but he can basically hear the smile in the sound.

“Alright darling. I can hear you’re busy and would love to get rid of me again as quick as possible, so I’ll leave you to it. Take care. I love you. You can always talk to me if anything’s wrong, you know that right?”

He hums some sort of agreement, then hangs up after a quickly muttered “I love you too,” before she can make him say anything else embarrassing with his roommate around.

 

The silence becomes thick and heavy after a while, even as he tries his very best to keep properly occupied to have an excuse not to look at Yifan. When eventually he can’t take it anymore and looks up, he finds that his roommate is indeed looking at him, with a peculiar sort of expression on his face. He doesn’t know anything to say so he just keeps looking at his roommate in silence.

“I’m sorry I took your call again, but I saw it was your mother and I didn’t want her to worry.” The apology is unexpected, but he welcomes and accepts it with a nod anyway.

“It’s fine. She likes you.” He smiles lightly at that and surprisingly Yifan smiles right along, seeming somehow happy about that fact. Then the silence falls once more, even as they’re still looking at each other.

Eventually his thoughts become so loud that he has to look away, right as Yifan takes a breath to speak. He glances back up instantly, but whatever his roommate was about to say gets swallowed in the silence.

They’re looking at each other again and it’s all kinds of awkward but he still can’t seem to look away. After a long moment he gathers all his willpower to speak instead.

“I’m going to see Chanyeol.”

As if the sound of his voice breaks the spell, Yifan looks away and Yixing finds himself finally able to move. Quickly gathering his phone and wallet, he heads for the door, but by the time he makes it there, Yifan’s gaze is on him again already and he can’t help but look over.

Something akin to hurt is quickly hidden behind the usual, almost mocking smile, but he somehow can’t un-see that flicker of emotion. And the thought of Yifan being hurt – _showing_ hurt – is so shocking that it stops him in his tracks.

“I…” he says, and he knows he’s got Yifan’s full attention instantly, but nothing more follows. He doesn’t know what to say to make it better, easier, to somehow comfort his roommate who doesn’t even show his feelings usually.

“You… are very handsome?” Yifan guesses after a moment and he turns bright red within seconds. At least _that_ makes Yifan laugh again. “I’m kidding. We both know you’d never say that about yourself.” A pause, a moment, then a very deliberate: “Even though we both know it’s true.”

He blushes more, wants to look away but can’t, and instead gets to watch another genuine smile bloom on Yifan’s features once more. He can’t help it, no matter how awkward he feels, he smiles back.

And somehow, it’s enough to make things okay again, Yifan shifting in his seat and bringing his phone up again.

“See ya, Mary.”

 

He doesn’t go see Chanyeol. He wouldn’t even know what to say to the younger male in that very instant. What is there to say, anyway? That is also a question he doesn’t know how to answer. He figures if he talks to anyone, voices the thoughts and feelings he holds inside for the first time, then it should either be his mother or Yifan considering the circumstances.

The thought of trying to talk to his mother terrifies him to no end, but the thought of talking to his roommate of all people is almost worse. After the way he responded at the very beginning of figuring out Yifan’s sexuality, how does he now just walk back in and declare that he might just have the same affliction?

He pauses at that thought, stills for a moment and corrects his own thought process. It’s not an affliction, after all, that seems to crude a word. It’s just the way someone is, nothing to do about it.

But he still remembers crying eyes, a heartbroken expression and pure and utter betrayal, as well as the words “Why would anyone _do_ that!?” and he can’t seem to get himself over that particular memory. Over the knowledge of how it has destroyed lives. Of how it didn’t used to be like that.

He’s so focused on his own thoughts, attention entirely on his own mind rather than his surroundings, that it should come as no surprise when he bumps right into someone. He stumbles, but hands steady him instantly, as if the other person was expecting the collision, and as he blinks and looks up, the apologies already tumble from his lips.

It’s once again Sehun who’s smiling at him, nothing of offence written over his features, and Yixing instantly mumbles another apology, then steps back to regain his own balance.

“You okay there, man? You look a bit worse for wear.” There’s a sudden small frown that appears on Sehun’s forehead and Yixing stands dumbstruck for a moment, trying to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to respond to that.

“Bad night,” he decides to say, running a hand over his face so as to not have to look at Sehun too much. “Sorry about stumbling into you, my mind is entirely elsewhere.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” There’s a pause, Sehun seemingly taking him in as if to gauge if he’ll be alright. He tries to smile casually, tries to not look like his entire existence has been thrown upside down. Sehun’s gaze flickers over his features one more time and then a decision seems to be made.

“Hey, you wanna grab a coffee?”

 

He doesn’t know why he agreed. Doesn’t know exactly what drove him to follow Sehun to a nearby coffee shop and to actually sit down at a table with a latte between his hands. But there he is, staring down at the foam in his mug and considering the funny ways life twists and turns itself to have him end up right here with the younger male opposite him nursing a cappuccino.

A few text messages were exchanged by Sehun while they were in line to order, and now Yixing’s got the sinking feeling that the basketball player might have decided to ditch his girlfriend in order to spend time with him. It doesn’t sit well with him, somehow, but he can’t say anything about it without making a clear grasp in the dark and Sehun might just as well have been texting someone entirely different.

He can only hope that someone else is not Yifan.

Thoughts go back to his roommate and from there it’s another spiral into oblivion, thoughts jumbling together, unease and fear gripping at him from all sides, mixed with insecurity and confusion.

He only looks up when Sehun puts his mug down on the table, and it’s only then that he registers the passing of time, because Sehun’s cup is empty already, whereas Yixing’s is still filled to the brim.

“You want to talk about it?” Sehun asks a moment later. There’s a tiny little smile on his features that shows amusement, but Yixing doesn’t feel laughed at for a change. Instead he realises how funny it must look to just see him space out for what must have been twenty minutes already and then suddenly return to reality.

“I, uh…” He knows what he _could_ say, he just doesn’t know how much of it he _should_ say, how trustworthy the guy opposite him truly is. Sure, Chanyeol paints a wonderful picture of the younger male, but is that only Sehun as a friend or is he like that to everyone?

“It’s fine if you don’t. I know we don’t really know each other. I just figured, sometimes a stranger is easier to talk to.” Sehun’s smile grows wider again, becoming the more common, friendly one, and Yixing smiles back automatically once again.

“I honestly can’t think of you as a stranger anymore with how much I’ve heard about you,” he admits, then is surprised at his own honesty. Luckily Sehun doesn’t think the words strange at all, but he even laughs a little at them.

“Chanyeol?” The name is spoken without any sense of annoyance, but with clear knowledge. Which means Sehun is fully aware of Chanyeol’s attraction for him but doesn’t seem to find it strange or bothersome at all. And once again Yixing finds himself wondering if there is something wrong with him or if this is just the difference between people. Before he can get too lost in those thoughts, he gives a quick nod of his head.

“Ah, well,” Sehun says to that, shrugging lightly, but the smile he’s wearing turns happier somehow. “You shouldn’t believe everything Chanyeol says, but he seems to have a very accurate understanding of my person by now. I guess I should blame his friendship with my girlfriend for that.” Yixing makes an attempt at a conversational smile, but he just can’t seem to make himself properly communicative.

“Well, sorry I can’t help,” Sehun says after a short pause, as if sensing his struggle. “But you should drink your latte before it’s entirely cold. Would be a waste of money otherwise, I’d say.”

He takes that piece of advice, at least.

 

When he returns to the room after another few hours of aimlessly walking around, Yifan is once again there. It’s funny, he thinks, how his roommate is never around when he’s trying to talk to him, but doesn’t seem to ever even _leave_ the room when he just wishes he could get some time alone.

“How was coffee?”

The question jolts him into full awareness, gaze going over to his roommate with shock written all over his features and his heart beating like crazy in his chest. Was Yifan keeping tabs on him now?

“Sehun texted me to let me know he was ditching practice to have coffee with you,” Yifan explains after a moment, amused smile spreading on his expression. “Unless you didn’t have coffee at all and he was just trying to make an excuse for wanting to spend time with his girlfriend instead?”

The explanation eases some of his instant shock, but he still needs another moment to school his expression back into neutrality, shaking his head lightly.

“No, we did have coffee… Sorta.”

He gives no further explanation and Yifan doesn’t ask any either, simply continuing the conversation instead.

“I figured. Sehun wouldn’t try making excuses, he’d just tell me he was going to spend time with her.” There’s a warmth in Yifan’s voice as he talks about the younger male and for the first time, Yixing wonders how the two of them met and how long they’ve known each other for. “Well, I hope it was good coffee. And if we lose our next game because of it I’ll hold you responsible.”

He looks over at his roommate again in confusion, only realising Yifan was joking when he sees the grin that is now gracing his features. For a moment he’s split between amusement and annoyance, but then for some reason amusement wins out and he breathes out a smile of his own.

“If one team member going for coffee with me one time is going to ruin your chances at winning the game, I’m pretty sure the problem is not with me but with your team,” he replies shortly after. There is a moment in which his gaze locks with Yifan’s and that familiar tension ties his stomach into a knot – that fear of having said something that might offend his roommate – but then Yifan’s face breaks into an even wider grin and a chuckle is pulled from him.

“Good point, Mary.”

He doesn’t know why, but suddenly the nickname sounds a lot nicer to his ears. Like a sign of friendship between the both of them rather than the way to make fun of him that he’d regarded it as until not too long ago.

 

They fall back into normalcy after that; or whatever passes for normalcy between them.

It takes him all of three hours before he can no longer take it anymore, the pretending that nothing out of the ordinary happened, that there’s not still a giant elephant in the room they’re both doing their best to ignore. So it’s at almost eleven that night that he turns on his desk chair and focuses all of his attention on his roommate.

Yifan looks up after a short moment only, gaze taking him in for a second before eyebrows raise in question, a wordless inquiry as to what his issue is. To the older male’s credit, he also lowers his phone already and rests it in his lap, giving Yixing just as much attention in return.

“I’m sorry about befo- I mean yesterday.” He has to avert his gaze, can’t bear to look into Yifan’s eyes and be witness to the way his words shift the emotions on the older male’s features. “I didn’t mean to just…” He runs out of words. Or well, he doesn’t really run out of words, but he does run out of courage to speak them aloud. Yet Yifan doesn’t respond and so he’s forced to look up again in the silence that follows, to gauge what his roommate might think of what he’s said so far.

Yifan’s looking at him with a neutral expression now, but something about the way those eyes seem to bore into him tell him that the blankness is carefully crafted and not a true indication of what lies underneath. The older male says nothing, however, and Yixing finds himself strangely forced to speak more after all, to say something else on the subject and to not just leave it at that.

“I mean, I just, you know…” Yifan doesn’t know, he is aware of that, but no matter how much he tries to properly formulate the words in his mind, they never seem to manage making it out of his mouth. At least his roommate seems to realise he’s not going to make a proper sentence this time around either, because the silence is finally interrupted by Yifan himself.

“You know, it’s fine, we can just leave it behind us,” he is told, a reassuring smile going along with the words even though he doesn’t feel reassured at all. The eye contact between them lasts for almost a minute before Yifan nods, picks up his phone again and goes back to whatever he was doing before.

That is about the point when words finally manage to make it past whatever barrier has been placed inside of his mind, even if he’s clenching his hands heavily as he says them.

“No. We can’t.”

He goes quiet when Yifan looks back up, almost breathless, and fears that he won’t be able to finish what he was going to say yet again. But somehow his voice continues to work despite the way stress and tension seep into every single little atom of his being.

“I mean… I don’t want to just leave it behind us.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was swept away on a wave of inspiration for this story, so here is the next chapter sort-of already.  
> I honestly have no idea where this is going so bear with me... :')

The silence this time is almost deafening. Yifan’s gaze has come to a rest on him again, but there’s no words coming from the older male, no actual reaction whatsoever. Yixing suddenly realises that all of Yifan’s silences up to this point have been deliberate and that this is the first time his roommate is at an actual loss for words.

“What… then?” Yifan eventually asks, speaking slowly as if weighing each word before and while saying it. This question once again leaves Yixing without anything to say and he ponders the possible answer in his mind.

What then indeed? What does he want? What is it that he wishes to do if not forget that anything has happened at all?

“I don’t know.” He realises it’s a shitty answer, but at least it’s a truthful one, which is more than can be said about most of the other things he’s claimed in his life.

“I guess you better figure that out first. Maybe talk to a friend about it. What about Chanyeol?”

Yixing almost winces at the thought.

“I don’t know yet how to face him,” he once again truthfully replies, and it surprises him how easy it is to be honest with his roommate right then. How little, also, he feels like the other is going to judge him for anything he says. “I feel like I should talk to my mother first.” That thought still scares him more than anything else.

“Well you should probably wait with telling her until you’re sure. Otherwise she never even has to know.” Yifan suggests calmly, and Yixing feels incredulous for a moment - lying to his mother? - but then the words make sense, somehow.

“How can I be sure without talking about it, though?”

Yifan is silent for a moment, pondering the question, then that same accursed softness from before settles over his demeanour.

“You could talk to me?” A pause, in which they both seem to consider the same thing because Yifan continues with: “I know we’re not particularly close, but I’m a good listener.”

This, Yixing decides, is both easy to believe and very, very hard at the same time. He can’t help but snort incredulously.

“And then tease or bully me with it for years to come?” He counters with a hint of disbelief audible in his voice. Surprisingly Yifan merely accepts the remark, expression remaining that softer kind of sympathy.

“Not about something like this, Mary,” he says. “Never about something like this.”

Whether it’s Yifan’s general countenance or the use of the familiar nickname he doesn’t know, but he believes his roommate entirely right then.

 

“I just… It seems so _wrong_.”

He doesn’t feel entirely comfortable with speaking his mind like this to the older male, but Yifan has promised not to take any of his thoughts to heart. Reassured him, even, that everyone has struggled with similar doubts most likely.

“I can’t do this to my mother,” he says then, and finally his real concern is voiced. “It would break her. I can’t do that to her. If I just try a bit harder, I’m sure I’ll find a nice girlfriend. That would be better.”

“Would it though?” Yifan counters, but his voice is still soft. “Would you be happy?”

“If the girl is nice and we get along fine, I could be,” he responds without missing a beat, but it doesn’t sound as honest as he would like it to.

To Yifan’s credit he doesn’t snort or otherwise show any outward sign of how unlikely he thinks that is, but Yixing can almost hear the disbelief in the silence.

“If you say so,” Yifan then says, still soft, still free of judgement. “If that’s what you want, then there you go.”

He sits there, staring ahead of himself for a long while, truly considering the thought. Yifan seems to realise for his roommate leaves the silence be. Eventually he sighs deeply.

It’s almost too hard to speak the truth, to admit for the second time that day what is truly in his heart, but somehow, he does. Somehow this softer Yifan is a person he feels he can trust. Somehow, he doesn’t seem to have much of a choice.

“No. No, that’s not what I want.” He sighs again, softer this time. “But what I want would kill my mother if she knew and I can’t do that to her.” His voice breaks at the end, as a sudden onslaught of all the things he’s been hiding and denying for years batters against his emotions. And inside of it all hides a longing so deep it’s almost hard to comprehend he has never truly noticed it before.

Yifan moves, slowly and deliberately, walking over to Yixing’s bed. And suddenly there’s arms around him, holding him, sheltering him. The reality of it is more soothing than terrifying in that moment, and he doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge, so he just leans in and closes his eyes.

Nothing’s being said. Yifan makes no attempt at communication, but somehow Yixing still knows that it’s okay if he stays in the hold for a while longer. For however long he wants, even. He considers never pulling away again. He considers just dying in this very moment.

Someone knocks on the door, causing Yixing to jump in surprise and quickly pull away. Or try to, because Yifan’s arms don’t let him go, hands tightening their hold to keep him in place, without ever becoming suffocating.

“Go away,” his roommate calls to whoever’s at the door, and the sudden coldness in Yifan’s voice chills Yixing to the core. After the softness and warmth with which he’d been spoken to until now, the older male’s usual tone of voice sounds all the more threatening and distant. He doesn’t even dare speak himself, afraid that said coldness will suddenly be turned towards him as well if he so much as twitches.

“I just want t-”

“Go. Away.” Yifan repeats, his tone leaving no room for speculation about his mood. In fact, it sounds like Yifan might just go punch the guy in the face if he doesn’t leave. Luckily whoever it is – Yixing didn’t even recognise the voice but he still feels bad for the guy – seems to get the hint because nothing else is said.

The privacy returns to their room after that, but Yixing still finds himself extremely tense and unsure of whether or not he should pull away. Right as he’s about to, however, Yifan’s hand comes to a gentle rest on the back of his head, fingers thread through his hair and he feels entirely safe and protected all at once.

 

This time the silence between them is comfortable. This time the proximity of their bodies does not make him tense but content instead. This time he doesn’t pull away but leans in closer, nose pressed into Yifan’s shoulder, arms wrapped around the older male’s middle.

When he moves, it’s only to tilt his head to the side so he can gently nuzzle Yifan’s cheek in a sign of affection. He doesn’t expect Yifan’s head to turn, nor does he expect his roommate leaning in to kiss him. He doesn’t pull away either, though.

It’s tentative at first, lips ghosting over lips as if asking permission and then, when no reluctance or rejection is shown, there’s more pressure.

And all of a sudden, Yixing finds lips gently nipping at his own, and fingers digging into his back as they pull him in a little closer. He doesn’t object, willingly leaning in and discovering the newness with ample curiosity.

When he pulls away, it’s only because he’s breathless, and he belatedly notices the hand put on Yifan’s side, clinging to the older male’s shirt as if that’s the most solid support he could find. He wants to pull away in surprise, but his eyes flicker up to Yifan’s face and he realises only then that his roommate’s eyes are still closed. His face is so near Yifan’s that the slightest movement could close the distance again, and he can feel Yifan’s chest rising and falling in accordance to his erratic breathing, much like his own.

His gaze moves from Yifan’s eyes to his lips, down to the older male’s chest and then back up. He knows that he would have pulled away any other time, would have not even let it get to this point. But somehow he doesn’t care about any of his usual fears, at least not for the time being, and he soon finds himself shifting again to close the little distance between them.

For one, initial heartbeat, Yifan freezes. Surprise, he vaguely realises, is also not something he’s seen on his roommate until now. Before he can respond, however, Yifan’s leaning in again too, the pressure of fingers digging into his back increasing as once more his breath gets stolen from him by the lips nipping and pecking his.

Time seems to have a curious way of passing because it feels both like mere moments and yet eternities later when he once again pulls away. This time reluctant to break the contact, he buries his face in Yifan’s neck and keeps his eyes closed, a content sigh leaving him.

His hands have meanwhile moved as well, and he now finds himself with the tips of his fingers touching the bare, exposed skin of Yifan’s sides and abdomen. For a while he just sits there, nothing but their erratic breathing sounding up. Eventually he decides to break the silence.

“You didn’t ask for permission either,” he says. The chuckle starts in both Yifan’s chest and stomach, muscles tensing as the amusement spills out, until eventually sound follows.

“Idiot,” he is playfully named and the proof of Yifan’s mirth is enough to make him smile as well. He breathes his contentment against Yifan’s shoulder, then gently nips at the skin of the older male’s neck with his lips. The response is a shiver running down Yifan’s spine and, he notices a moment later, a tell-tale stirring of another body part.

He smiles again.

 

It’s dark by the time they disentangle, Yixing having trouble prying his limbs from the embrace because of how comfortable he is and how much he actually enjoys the close proximity. For all it’s worth, Yifan seems to feel somewhat the same way, because the arms and hands take a long time to let him go and the fingers stroke through his hair once more before they do. He’s the one shivering then, but he does it soundlessly, and so the darkness keeps the movement from Yifan.

“You see, Mary,” his roommate then suddenly says, almost smugly so, and he frowns lightly as he waits for whatever insensitive comment might follow next. “I told you I’m a good listener.”

The joke is unexpected, but it makes him chuckle all the same, reaching out next to shove his roommate. “Idiot,” he returns the amused scolding and Yifan’s chuckle this time is light and happy.

The thought of letting the moment pass – this moment, in which he feels so relaxed and comfortable with Yifan, no worries left over whether or not he might say or do something foolish – makes his chest ache, and in a moment of impulsivity, he reaches for Yifan’s arm.

“Sleep with me,” he utters in Chinese, soft and vulnerable, hoping the other male won’t reject his request or make fun of him for it. Luckily Yifan almost instantly puts arms around him again, pulling him into a hug once more and gently nuzzling his hair.

“I’m afraid you can’t afford my fee for a night,” he’s told then. The words are playful, so unlike how he’s come to know Yifan, but he enjoys them all the more because of it. As if he’s finally discovering this hidden corner of his roommate’s personality, this little piece of who Yifan is altogether that is now being revealed to no one but him. A wave of boldness overtakes him there in the dark, where his face is invisible and everything seems possible.

“That’s okay,” he says. “I know you’ll let me have the night for free. I have your permission after all.” He waits a beat, then even dares to add: “Always.”

Yifan doesn’t respond at first, a silence settling between them that almost makes him take back his words and apologise, that almost makes him feel like he ruined the moment. But then, right before he can start pulling away, Yifan tightens his hold.

“This is true,” he says, and it’s all he says, but somehow Yixing feels like there’s an entire world of meaning behind those words and for a split second he is afraid of the implications. Then Yifan ruffles his hair almost fondly and gently nudges him out of the bed.

“Come on, let’s put on our sleeping clothes and get to it, then. It’s late and I’ve got practice in the morning. _With_ Sehun this time, I hope.”

He chuckles along with his roommate, then gets up to change. It’s welcoming arms he crawls back into only minutes later and somehow they manage to fit both their shapes into Yixing’s tiny bed just fine.

 

When he wakes, he is alone. The sheets still faintly smell of Yifan, but his roommate is gone and the space left by his absence is instantly filled with all the fears and worries that had left him alone in the dark. Half an hour later, all his sheets are in his laundry bag and he’s headed for Chanyeol’s with his guitar strapped to his shoulder without looking back.

They play together like usual, only speaking to discuss the music. If Chanyeol even notices something’s off, he doesn’t ask and Yixing doesn’t tell either. Like that, three hours pass by quickly and he leaves with a noncommittal sort of goodbye.

When he walks back into his own room, Yifan looks up from his phone and smiles upon seeing him, but he simply nods in greeting and walks back to his side of the room. With the anxiety setting every nerve end of his tingling, he puts his guitar back in place, then gathers his books to leave for class. He doesn’t even manage to speak any greeting as he walks out the door and none is directed at him either.

Right before he closes the door entirely, he catches a glimpse of Yifan’s face. The expression is blank but he knows, he knows, he _knows_ he’s being a an ass. Yet the anxiety gripping his chest is too big, too all-consuming, and so he closes the door fully and leaves behind whatever happened between them.

 

Yifan goes back to his usual self, without extra snark or added insults, and this is what fucks him up the most. Every time he asks or says something to his roommate, it’s hesitant and soft, always expecting the outburst that never happens. He doesn’t dare ask about it, more content with letting the entire thing stay unspoken of. Ignoring an issue until it goes away is what he does best, after all.

Chanyeol doesn’t seem to notice anything off about him either. Their guitar playing sessions continue on like before, with Chanyeol doting on his current series of boyfriends or daydreaming about Sehun, whereas he just plays guitar and occasionally hums or nods to indicate he’s still listening.

But the truth is, the truth is…

 

“You’re coming too, right?” Sehun says and when the silence lasts, Yixing looks up from his phone to find the entire basketball team looking at him from where they’re drinking beer on Yifan’s side of the room.

“Me?” He asks rather dumbly and the younger male grins, along with a few others.

“Yes, you. With how much this guy talks about you we’re almost convinced you’re part of the team, even if you’re never at practice.”

This pulls laughter from every single person present, but his eyes flicker to Yifan, who’s looking at him with an expressionless face. Yifan’s the only one not laughing, not even smiling, and he temporarily wonders if he should accept the offer or not – if Yifan would be okay with having him around there or not. As if capable of mindreading, his roommate gives a small, almost imperceptible nod and Yixing quickly clears his throat.

“Ah, well. He says only good things, I hope?” He dares joke, attention returning to Sehun as the entire team starts to laugh once more.

“Mostly,” Sehun admits with a nod and a grin. “Which is what makes it so strange. Yifan’s never this nice about people. We’re all curious what you did to bring forth this miracle.” Everyone’s grinning by now except for Yifan himself still.

“Yeah,” someone speaks up then. “Since it wasn’t sucking his dick. We asked.”

Everybody guffaws and laughs. Sehun turns to punch whoever made the comment in the shoulder. Yifan’s expression darkens. Yixing doesn’t entirely notice any of that, though shocked to his very core by the implications of said comment.

“One more of those shitty jokes and I will punch your fucking teeth out, Lee.” Yifan’s voice is ice, colder than Yixing has ever heard it, dripping with venom at the same time. The entire team goes quiet for a second, an eerie sort of silence descending in the room as Yifan stares at the one he named ‘Lee.’ Yixing watches the way everyone seemingly sits on edge, ready to react should the situation turn into a fight somehow. He clears his throat once more.

“Sure,” he says to Sehun specifically. “I’ll go along. But there will be free food involved, I hope?”

Yifan’s gaze moves over to him with barely visible surprise, everyone else’s attention soon moving to him as well. Sehun flashes him an almost grateful smile.

“I’ll buy it for you myself,” he is told, with a wink following the words and he automatically grins back at the younger male who is still so easy to get along with.

 

“Do you really want to come?”

He looks up from his phone at his roommate. Yifan’s still standing at the door after letting Sehun out as the last of the team members. There is once again a peculiar sort of look on his roommate’s face that he can’t seem to pinpoint. He shrugs lightly.

“They seem like an okay bunch. I don’t see why not.”

The reply hangs in the air between them, no response being given by Yifan. Eventually Yixing puts his phone down and focuses on the older male completely.

“What is it? Do you not want me to come? Is it a team thing? Because I can just not go, too, if you prefer that. I don’t want to ruin this outing for you.”

Something tenses in Yifan’s face, but not in an angry way.

“So fucking nice,” the older male says in the almost familiar low voice, a roughness to it that’s not Yifan’s usual. The next moment, the older male’s moving and Yixing tenses up, very aware of what happened the last time those words were spoken and almost afraid of it happening again. But Yifan just walks over to his own bed.

“You do what you want, Mary,” he’s told, but for some reason the words leave a bitter taste in his mouth. “I don’t mind you being there,” Yifan then continues. “Just know that they’ll be making more comments like the earlier one. You’re going to have to deal with that.”

He swallows at the look Yifan gives him, suddenly feeling like the biggest jerk in the universe. There is nothing he can say, though, so he keeps his mouth closed. The eye contact ends soon enough, when Yifan looks away.

 

The group is loud, boisterous and extremely uncaring of the other people around them. But they’re nice. He’s included in their conversations from the very first moment he arrives and they instantly make him feel like he’s part of the group. It causes him to consider joining them for real, until he remembers that he is the _worst_ at ball games.

Sehun is the one helping him the most, telling him where to be and who’s who. He’s somehow glad and disappointed at the same time that it’s not Yifan who takes up that role. But the captain, he soon learns, is somehow liked by all, as every single one of the team members hangs off his lips and shifts to his mood. He finally starts to understand why Chanyeol once said Yifan simply was a guy who got too much attention.

Still, it’s fun to see them banter, to watch the way they shift from teasing to serious conversation and back. The way Yifan makes jabs at some of them but receives jabs in return as well, all in good spirit. Sehun makes most of them, clearly allowed more liberties than the others for some reason, but everyone else laughs along just the same and it never darkens Yifan’s mood. Yixing smiles and chuckles along with them, only never presumes to speak about someone else himself.

They ride a train for a good hour and the entire compartment of people gives them dirty looks, but none of the others seem to notice or mind. He takes a seat a little to the side, where eventually Sehun comes to find him to drag him off to the toilet. It’s not really the bathroom they go to find, but silence and solitude instead, he realises when he’s standing in the space between compartments and Sehun comes to a stop.

“You okay?” He’s asked, eyes searching his face for the truth. “They can be a bit loud and overwhelming sometimes, can’t they?” Sehun smiles in amusement and he smiles back lightly, giving a little nod.

“Yes, but they’re very nice too. It’s hard not to like them,” he replies, fondness colouring his voice.

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re comfortable. And that you came along too. Don’t forget to tell me when you’re hungry, by the way. Your food on this trip is my treat.”

He smiles again, then nods once more. After that, another wave of boldness overtakes him.

“Can I ask you something?” Sehun’s expression turns more serious too at the question, but he smiles encouragingly as he nods. “How come Yifan accepts all of your teasing but nobody else’s?”

This, he realises soon after, is a question Sehun has had to answer plenty of times before. The way the younger male glances back in the direction the came from, however, tells him he’s going to get an honest answer.

“I’ve known Yifan since my very first year here. I had some trouble adjusting to the new environment and he helped me a lot. He even secured me my spot on this team. When he came out to his parents shortly before the Christmas holidays a few years ago, they didn’t react well, pretty much forbade him from going home unless he brought a future wife along. I convinced my parents to let him spend the holidays at our place. By now he’s pretty much become part of the family.”

Sehun shrugs, then smiles. “I don’t really know either if it’s just because we’ve become good friends or if gratitude plays a part in it too. Or maybe I just know where the line is and what I can and can’t bring up. He’s like a brother to me by now.”

The silence is heavy, all the implications of Sehun’s words weighing down on him and causing him to be unable to respond. They end up re-joining the others not long after and he’s soon pulled into a game of rock-paper-scissors to decide the teams.

 

He turns out to be better at paintball than he thought. His aim is still shit, as expected, but he’s so good at hiding as well as dodging that he’s one of the last ones still on the field. Of his team, originally led by Sehun, there’s only one other person still playing. Of the other team three are left, one of them of course Yifan himself. The captain, it seems, is _always_ captain, and apparently also good at everything he does.

Right then, two mirrored shouts indicate another meeting between teams and soon enough the speakers announce that each team is down another member. That leaves him as the only survivor of Sehun’s team. Pretty certain that the chances of him besting Yifan are slim, he still decides to try and take out the other guy at least before he goes down himself.

It takes him a little while to find a good hiding place, and right as he settles in his spot, the other two come into view. He doesn’t hesitate, aiming his gun in their direction and waiting for them to move into his line of fire before loosing a few balls of paint at them.

When he stops shooting – something he always seems to close his eyes for, which might explain the bad aim – the second guy groans loudly and trots off. Not long after the standoff between Yifan and him is announced over the speakers.

A standoff is not the word Yixing would use, though, considering Yifan has his gun lowered and is just looking in the general direction of where he’s hiding. So he gets up too, and slowly walks over to his roommate. Yifan’s eyes fix on him the moment he comes into view, but the gun stays lowered and Yixing’s allowed to close the entire distance untouched.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Yifan says, and there’s a relaxed smile on his face. In fact, his roommate looks entirely more at ease than ever before. Or almost ever.

“I’m just good at weaselling away, honestly. My aim sucks,” he admits truthfully. “Which is no surprise considering I close my eyes automatically every time I pull the trigger.” Yifan laughs and he can’t help but grin too.

“That’s… inconvenient,” the older male decides, causing him to chuckle lightly. Then after a moment’s silence, Yifan adds: “Well you won.”

He frowns at that, looking around and then back at Yifan. “Don’t I still have to get you? I’m pretty sure your aim is a lot better than mine and you’d win an actual standoff.” That’s when Yifan smiles almost regretfully so and shrugs lightly.

“But I could never shoot you,” he says, like it’s no big deal, like it doesn’t make Yixing’s heart pause and his stomach lurch. “Besides, you already hit me in the leg.” His roommate shifts then, revealing the red blotch of paint on the back of his lower leg. “So you win. Even if it was a lucky shot. Congratulations. Everyone has to buy you a drink tonight.”

 

They pile into a street-side restaurant later, ordering bottles of soju and towers of food. Everyone’s incredulous about his victory since Yifan has apparently never lost before. Luckily, they allow him to decline the drinks, but only after his suggestion of them buying a drink for whoever shot them instead. Yifan’s glass gets filled several times over, his own twice.

If he thought the basketball team was rowdy on the way to the game, he is unprepared for what they turn into after a few drinks. He ends up sitting at the corner of the table, with Sehun sitting between him and the others like a buffer and Yifan at the head of the table on his other side. The older male is smiling, clearly enjoying the atmosphere, but not participating as much as Yixing would’ve expected.

He steps outside around the point where the drunk team members start getting into slightly too private conversations. When he leaves the little tent, the noise is instantly less loud, and the air is a little clearer. Surprisingly Yifan joins him not long after.

“Hey,” his roommate says, soft kind of smile on his face, and Yixing nods in greeting. They walk a bit in silence, rounding the corner of the street. “I’m really glad you came along,” he’s suddenly told, and he glances over at his roommate in surprise. “This was very nice.” He allows himself a smile, glad that Yifan feels this way, then comes to a stop when a hand touches his.

Yifan’s movement is slow, fingers gently sliding between his, giving him ample time to pull away should he not be okay with it. He doesn’t. Their fingers entangle, and he lightly closes his hand when Yifan does. A moment later, Yifan’s forehead comes to a rest on his shoulder. He turns almost automatically, wrapping his free arm around the older male’s frame.

Yifan’s entire body relaxes with a sigh, his roommate leaning in to him so casually and full of trust that he can’t seem to deny him the comfort. After a few minutes he does move, though, gently pulling Yifan along to the wall so he can lean his back against it and let it carry some of the weight. He lets his head rest against Yifan’s next, closing his eyes and allowing himself to relax as well.

Sehun finds them there almost an hour later, when he comes looking for them because they’re about to leave.

 

They walk along with the others to the train, but once everyone starts getting on, Yifan takes hold of his wrist. Only the word ‘headache’ is uttered to Sehun, who nods. Then he’s being pulled away from the others and onto the train an entire wagon further. Yifan surprisingly manages to find them an empty compartment, then pulls him to sit down on the first set of double seats.

He slides over to the window, expecting Yifan to sit down next to or across from him, but his roommate simply lies down, resting his head in Yixing’s lap, legs stretched out over the rest of the seat and most of the aisle.

“I have a killer headache,” is all Yifan says, voice still holding that softer quality from before, his eyes closing soon after. Yixing looks down at the head in his lap for a long time, until he finally brings his hand down and starts to run his fingers through Yifan’s hair with gentle, comforting movements.

Threading through the dark locks over and over seems to have a calming effect on him, and it must be soothing for Yifan too because the older male has yet to reopen his eyes. For all Yixing knows, Yifan could be asleep right there. He wouldn’t really put it past the other.

But Yifan soon proves that’s not true when he opens his eyes and looks up into Yixing’s face. The sudden eye contact startles him, but Yifan shows him a small smile and his shoulder instantly relax again. There’s a tension around the older male’s eyes and a paleness to his skin that indicate the headache is still there, but the captain doesn’t close his eyes again just yet. So Yixing keeps looking at him too, in case there’s something Yifan wants him to know.

“You’re so good-looking,” the older male says after a moment and Yixing breathes out some air he didn’t realise he was keeping in. For a moment Yifan’s smile grows, some amusement shining through in it, but then his face contorts with pain and his eyes close again. Yixing automatically includes Yifan’s forehead in his rhythmic stroking, and watches the creases slowly disappear as his roommate relaxes again.

“Thanks, Mary.” It’s nothing much more than a whisper, but he catches it nonetheless and it temporarily flusters him. Gratitude from Yifan is like water in a drought, after all, usually expensive and very rare.

“Just sleep,” he decides to respond in a low voice. “I’ll wake you up when we get there.” And to his immense surprise, Yifan hums his assent and gets comfortable.

 

“You okay?” Yixing’s voice breaks the silence that hangs between them and Yifan’s eyes open automatically, finding him on the other side of the room. The eye contact lingers for a while before the older male slowly starts to smile.

“Yeah. ‘s All good, Mary, no worries.” The reassurance is spoken almost softly and Yixing suddenly knows it’s _his_ voice Yifan’s using, the one that no one other than him seems to get, and it temporarily makes him feel peculiarly warm inside. “ _You_ okay?” Concern for someone else is also not something that Yifan shows often, so he nods his head instantly.

“Yeah. ‘s All good,” he repeats Yifan’s own words back to him. Then, as he sees a smile form on Yifan’s face and feels himself smile too, he adds: “No worries.” It makes Yifan snort, and he grins easily at the sound of his roommate’s mirth.

“C’m’ere.” The word is accompanied by a little wave of Yifan’s hand, and Yixing raises his eyebrows lightly before walking over to the other male. Yifan pats the bed, right next to his head, so he carefully sits down, trying not to dent the mattress too much. Even though he expected something to the likes of it, it still surprises him when Yifan moves, once again putting his head back down in Yixing’s lap again.

“Can you do some more of that stroking? I liked that. It was nice.” Yifan’s eyes are closed again, so Yixing allows himself a moment of ease, no longer trying to control his expression and simply moving his hand to start running his fingers through Yifan’s hair and over his forehead again. As his fingers flow through the movements like they’ve never done anything else, he feels the older male relax against him again instantly.

The silence is comfortable, and Yixing feels himself relax in his position as well, the muscles of his legs relaxing at first, before the rest of his body seems to follow. Eventually he shifts slightly, to be able to better lean his back against the wall, and allows his own eyes to close as well, all the while continuing the movement of stroking through Yifan’s hair.

Somewhere in the following space of time, he simply falls asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you gUYS i have no idea what's going on i just keep writing okay have some more of this alkzjefg

He wakes in the darkness. His neck is sore, his back protests as he shifts and the wall he hasn’t been leaning against feels extremely cold even through his shirt. His hand still rests on Yifan’s head, the hair underneath it soft and slightly tangled. As his eyes get used to the little light available, he starts to make out the lines of his roommate, sprawled over the bed entirely differently from before but still with his head in Yixing’s lap and one hand now resting on his knee too.

The sight makes him smile, soft and warm, and he gently moves his hand to stroke some hair out of Yifan’s face. His fingers tenderly take hold of the locks, brushing them aside before slowly starting to trace the lines of the older male’s face. His forehead, the bridge of his nose, the gentle curve of his lips.

It doesn’t take long for Yifan to stir, eyes opening after a moment and becoming two gleaming orbs soon directed at him. He presumes his own eyes look quite the same to his roommate, no expression visible in the limited visibility of the night. They don’t move for a long moment as his fingers still on Yifan’s cheek as well, an almost perfect stillness descending upon them.

Then he draws breath to speak.

“I like you,” he admits, and the words flow easily in the darkness. “I think you’re good-looking too, and extremely captivating. I never seem to be able to think properly when I’m around you.” He breathes out a little smile of amusement over that truth, then starts to move his fingers again, tracing the lines around Yifan’s eyes next.

“But it scares me, more than I can handle sometimes. Most of the time. How people would react, all the hate I would have to endure, how I would have to explain…” He closes his eyes for a moment as he automatically thinks of his mother and how she would respond if ever she’d find out – if ever he told her. “And I find myself incapable of acting upon how I feel. I run away from it instead. And I’m sorry about that, but I don’t think I can stop myself. I don’t think I could admit to any of this while it’s light out, either, as if daylight is going to make it all real. It’s nonsense and stupid, but I can’t change it. I’m sorry.”

The gleam of Yifan’s eyes remains pointed in his direction, then a hand gently takes hold of his own and pulls it down. Yifan’s lips are soft against his skin, sending a jolt of both warmth and surprise through him. For a moment he tenses up, then he forces his muscles to relax again, all the while not breaking the eye contact between them.

“I’m here.”  Yifan’s voice has never been this soft. Like he, too, has a personality hidden in the darkness of the night. “If you can’t do this, I understand. But if you want to try, I’m okay with that too. Even if the only time we’ll be honest is inside of this room. I don’t mind hiding us from the rest of the world, as long as you’re honest with me. Like this.” The thought is both intriguing and terrifying; to attempt something, if only in the safety of their dorm room. If only for the little time they have left.

“I go back home in two months,” he whispers, fingers curling around the hand that’s still holding his. Yifan’s hand closes around his more solidly, then the older male moves to sit up, bringing them to eye level. There are a million things in the silence, but all of them are left unspoken.

Then Yifan says: “If you’re willing to try, I’ll take whatever I can get.”

 

The rising sun finds them curled up together under the blanket, Yifan’s arms draped around his frame, his own curled around the older male’s middle in an alike manner. His head rests against Yifan’s chest comfortably and he listens to the slow, steady rhythm of a heartbeat for a while after waking. When he stirs, the fingers in his hair start moving as if on their own, their touch gentle and caring. He hums in acknowledgement of the touch.

“Good morning,” Yifan breathes, a kiss landing in his hair. It brings a smile to his lips, and he opens his eyes and tilts his head to smile up at the older male. The movement earns him a peck on his lips which, despite the initial surprise, only serves to widen his smile.

“Good morning, handsome,” he dares to reply, then gets to watch an expression of wonder and delight take over Yifan’s face. He receives another peck but lifts his hand to put his fingers on Yifan’s cheek and hold his head in place so he can prolong the contact for a few seconds. This action causes a smile to appear on Yifan’s face and the next moment those very same lips tenderly land on his nose.

This, he realises, is where the softness has always stemmed from. This is where _his_ voice finds its origin. In the happiness Yifan feels over his presence. In the affection that currently seems to reside in every single atom of the older male’s body. He gazes upon it with marvelling eyes, drinking in the sight as if hoping never to forget it.

“Who are you?” He suddenly asks, reaching out again to trace the lines of that smile, of the happiness. “What have you done to my grumpy roommate?”

Yifan’s laughter fills the room, clear and unbridled, and he grins easily, proud of having accomplished it.

“ _I’m_ grumpy?” Yifan counters when the laughter subsides. “I’ll have you know that the first time you kissed me, I was convinced you were going to punch me instead.” He flushes slightly at the memory of the embarrassing moment, but nothing compares to how bright red he turns when Yifan leans in and adds: “And whatever has been done to turn your grumpy roommate into this me was done by _you_ , handsome sir.”

He opts for hiding his face into Yifan’s chest rather than watch the amusement spread over his roommate’s expression any further. It’s not long before fingers run through his hair again and another kiss lands on his head.

“But I underwent it gladly,” Yifan whispers into his hair after a moment, and he can do nothing but tighten his hold in both gratitude and a certain amount of uncomfortableness over the cringeworthy statement.

 

“Chanyeol,” he says a few days later as he’s putting his guitar away into the case. When he’s done, he looks up to find the younger male looking at him questioningly. “I need to say something, but I would like it if you didn’t tell anyone else.” He takes a breath, mentally preparing himself for whatever reaction he might get and then starts speaking again before he loses his nerve.

“I wanted to apologise for how I reacted all those months ago when you suggested I was into guys. That was a shitty response from my side and I never really apologised for it properly. So I’m sorry, for storming out and making you worry. You’ve been a great friend to me from the very start.”

Both surprise and amusement flicker over Chanyeol’s expression, a smile eventually blooming that’s filled with a little bit of both.

“You didn’t have to apologise, Yixing, but thank you for saying that,” he is told, Chanyeol’s smile widening slightly. He smiles back, then lets out a sigh.

“Also, you were right, and I was wrong, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone else since I’m not comfortable with broadcasting this fact, but I felt like you had a right to know.”

This time there is no amusement, only surprise, and a silence falls between them that isn’t broken for a full minute. When Chanyeol does finally speak again, it’s hesitantly, as if afraid of saying something that might tick him off again.

“I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to tell me this. You know I’m always here if you need to talk or whatever. And of course I won’t tell anyone. Your secret’s safe with me.” They share a smile, then Chanyeol – true to his nature – says: “Can I ask what ‘changed your mind’ so to speak?”

He scratches his nose lightly as he considers the answer and how much of it he’s comfortable revealing.

“It just became impossible for me to deny it any longer,” he ends up saying, swallowing before he adds: “But I’m not ready to admit it to the entire world yet. If ever.”

Chanyeol nods, clearly accepting the explanation as enough of a reply. There’s another moment’s silence and then the younger male’s expression shifts to an almost mischievous one as he leans in slightly.

“So,” Chanyeol says, and Yixing kind of dreads the words that will follow. “Now that I can ask for your proper opinion; what do you think of Sehun?”

The laughter comes easier than it has in a while and doesn’t relent until there’s tears in his eyes.

 

The voices are audible from halfway down the corridor, but it’s only when he nears his door that he can understand something of what they’re saying.

“Just don’t stick your rotten claws in him, is what I’m saying. You’re just going to hurt him,” one voice almost shouts but he can’t pinpoint who it is exactly, even though the voice is familiar.

“Oh? That’s rich coming from the one who _cheated_.” He could pick those cold, angry tones from a multitude of voices, however, and with a start he realises this conversation is most probably about _him_.

He walks into the room quicker than he’s ever done, finding Yifan and Chanyeol there, glaring at each other. Yifan’s hands are tightly holding onto Chanyeol’s collar, whereas the younger male’s hands are balled to fists at his side. Both their attention remains focused on each other, but as he closes the door, Yifan slowly lets go and takes a step back.

“What’s going on?” He asks, but both guys keep glaring at each other. He slowly steps closer, moving in between them and then looking to his roommate first.

“Yifan,” is all he says, then waits until the dark eyes move away from Chanyeol. The moment they do, the anger seeps out of Yifan’s expression and Yixing nods once as he takes in Yifan’s almost gentle features now that the attention is on him. He then turns his attention over to his friend. Chanyeol’s expression has cleared as well, now showing something akin to a surprised understanding.

“You okay?” He asks the younger male, whose eyes only fully focus on him right then, followed by a nod. “Yeah I’m fine.”

He hums, then turns to look at Yifan again for a moment. “I could hear you guys halfway down the corridor. Since I have a feeling this conversation has something to do with me, I suggest you both lower your voices so that not everyone in this building will know what you have to say.”

He looks from one to the other, then hums again as he calmly steps back out from between them. “I’m going to the bathroom. Let me know when it’s safe for me to come back, alright?”

He heads back out the door before either of them can reply. As he turns to pull it closed behind him, he hears Chanyeol say: “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” He doesn’t wait to hear the answer, too afraid of it either way.

 

Yifan’s standing near the window when he returns a little while later. The older male doesn’t turn towards him, so Yixing calmly locks the door before walking over. He puts a hand on Yifan’s shoulder first, waiting to see if he will be okay with it.

“I’m sorry,” Yifan says softly after a moment, turning towards him and smiling apologetically. “He just makes me so angry sometimes. We didn’t shout anything that would let people know who we were arguing about, though.” There are lines of sorrow lingering around Yifan’s eyes and they are what makes Yixing get up on the tips of his toes and pull Yifan into an embrace.

“I didn’t know he cheated on you, I’m sorry,” he says just as softly, holding the taller male against his frame and hoping he can serve as some form of comfort. Yifan’s arms soon come around him as well, and for a while they just stand there in silence.

When eventually he moves, it’s because his feet are getting tired and he lets himself slowly sink back down to the balls of his feet. Yifan straightens lightly in order to be able to look down at him. The smile appears on his face automatically and Yifan soon mirrors it, none of the sorrow left in his expression. For a moment they just stand there like that, then he leans in. Or maybe they both do, but they meet in the middle and he soon loses his breath again.

“Are you happy?” Yifan suddenly asks after they part again, and the sudden question silences him for a moment. Then he lightly touches the tip of Yifan’s nose with his index finger.

“Right here with you right now; yes.”

He’s not prepared for the way his words affect the other male. A softness settles in every line of Yifan’s features, followed by a smile that could possibly be the happiest one Yifan has ever sported. And in that short, painstaking moment, Yixing suddenly knows the answer to Chanyeol’s earlier question, and the anxiety gabs hold of his entire being once more.

It must show in his expression somehow, because Yifan’s face shifts back to neutral even before he starts pulling away. But by then it’s too late already, of course, and he moves all the way over to his own side of the room.

“Yixing…” Yifan says almost, _almost_ , pleading and he shakes his head lightly.

“I’m leaving in a little more than a month,” he says, only glancing over shortly. “How can I do this if I know it’s going to break your heart?” The accusation sounds heavy in the air between them, but Yifan doesn’t seem to notice. Instead he replies with the same ease as always, as if nothing can shake his composure.

“Whether you leave then or now, it’ll ‘break my heart’ as you name it. I’d rather have those months we have left _with_ you, at least then it’ll be worth it.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, but the weight on his chest lessens a little because of the words, and it becomes easier to breathe again too.

Eventually he just nods at Yifan’s expectant expression.

 

“Look,” Sehun says, and he almost winces at the sudden sound. “Yifan’s old enough to decide for himself and take his own responsibility. If he says he’ll be fine, I’m sure he will be. He wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

Yixing sighs deeply and nods his head once, then attempts to look Sehun in the eye again.

“He never said he would be fine, though.”

Sehun’s fingers temporarily tighten around his coffee cup.

“Alright,” the younger says then. “I’ll keep an eye on him after you go back home.” A breath of relief escapes him, and he nods gratefully at the basketball player before focusing on his own cup of coffee.

“And Yixing?” He looks up at Sehun again, wondering what might follow. “Thank you for telling me. I know it probably wasn’t easy.”

He holds the eye contact for a moment longer, judging to see if Sehun has understood correctly, then just nods again and empties his cup.

 

Yifan’s head is in his lap again, his fingers slowly running through the dark locks once more. Their gazes are focused on his laptop screen, a movie playing on it where it sits on his bed a little end away. The atmosphere is nice and comfortable in a way he hasn’t felt anymore since he came to this country. With the Chinese sounding up from the speakers, he can almost pretend he’s comfortably at home. Almost. Because at home he never would have had Yifan so close beside him.

He looks down at the older male for a moment, taking in the way Yifan’s lashes curl ever so slightly, the way the sunlight falling in from the window plays on his tanned skin. It’s the details that always captivate him, the things no one sees unless they’re looking closely. He doesn’t think he could ever grow tired of looking at Yifan.

A sudden shout in the movie startles him into looking up and for a while the story captures his attention again. But it’s not long before he’s looking down once more.

 

“Are you ready to lose, Mary?”

Even after all these weeks, he still has a hard time getting used to the way Yifan can so easily and flawlessly turn back into the careless, uncaring version of himself. By now everyone in the basketball team is aware of the origins of the nickname and no one gives them weird looks anymore when Yifan uses it, but it still takes him a while to get used to things again when they’re out in public and it’s no different this time.

His win at the paintball game has granted him the title of captain of one of the bowling teams, despite his protests about being too bad at the game to be a proper captain. Apparently the title also means having to hold a little word battle with the captain of the other team, which is of course Yifan. He puffs up his cheeks momentarily, then exhales slowly.

“Yes,” he says, a comment received by groans from his own team members and laughter from the others. “And since you aren’t, it will be all the harder for you to handle the soul crushing defeat you are about to suffer.” He tries his utter best to deliver the line with a straight face and is rewarded with whoops and cheers from his team members. Even Yifan’s expression shifts into a light grin.

“We’ll see about that,” the other team captain says, then motions at the bowling balls. “Loser takes the first turn,” Yifan states with a bit of a sneer, and even though he knows it’s just played, something defensive flares up in his chest.

“Guess you can start then,” he responds boldly, without even glancing at the bowling balls, flashing a triumphant little smile. This time Yifan’s eyes narrow, but he still motions for one of his guys to step forward.

“Start us off, Lee,” he says curtly, turning away then to watch the game.

Yixing does the same, soon finding Sehun standing next to him, who gives him an easy grin. “Good job,” he’s told with a clear hint of pride, and he beams slightly because of it.

No one notices the look he shares with Yifan a little bit later when their gazes cross, nor does anyone see the hug they share in the bathroom somewhere in the middle of the game. And he almost feels like he could live like this.

 

“How the _fuck_ do you do that!?”

He grins happily at the guy nearly shaking him, elated by the sense of victory that is coursing through his veins. He’s never been very competitive, but at this moment in time the elation of his fellow team members is enough to make his blood run quicker too.

“Turns out Yixing is our lucky charm,” Sehun says and the rest of their team cheers loudly for him.

“Next time I’m switching sides to be on your team,” Lee tells him with a grin, but it’s not long before someone else points out that according to Yixing’s earlier words, Lee was a loser all along. This brings about another round of happy banter that lasts all the way outside the bowling alley.

“When is the next time anyway?” He asks Sehun as they’re filing out of the building and heading back towards the campus. The younger male quickly checks his phone’s calendar.

“The weekend after graduation. We always hang out one more time before the summer holidays. And since Yifan is graduating along with a few others, it’s going to be a big party, most probably.” Sehun’s grinning but Yixing’s mood disappears in a flash. “You should come too,” the younger male still says, oblivious to the shift in his mood. “It’ll be fun!”

“I can’t,” he replies, and his emotionless tone is what finally captures Sehun’s attention. “I leave the day after graduation.” He pauses, realising exactly how close to that date they meanwhile already are.

“I leave in three weeks’ time.”

 

Yifan finds him a block away from the restaurant they’re camped out at this time and comes to stand next to him. He’s glad the older male doesn’t try to reach out to him, because he’s not sure he would have been able to accept the touch right then.

“Sehun told me what you talked about,” Yifan says after a moment of silence, and he lets out a noncommittal grunt in response. There’s some more silence before Yifan speaks again. “I could go with you, you know. I’m graduating anyway. I could find a job and a place to live in China just the same. That way I wouldn’t have to figure out my visa. You could come live with me. We could still see each other.”

He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t even move either. Yifan just lets the words hang in between them like he’s still somehow holding on to the hope that Yixing might accept them.

“This was only until I left for home,” he says eventually, unable to keep his voice from hitching as the tears threaten to spill. “You know that. I can’t take this home with me. I can’t… do that… to my mother.”

He doesn’t look at his roommate, doesn’t want to see whatever destruction his words cause the older male. He doesn’t want to admit either how much they truly tear him apart on the inside too.

“Okay,” Yifan says after a long silence, and Yixing grants him the luxury of being the one to walk away this time.

They don’t speak anymore that evening, and an hour later he decides to just go home, no longer in the mood to hang out with the basketball team.

 

He wakes in the middle of the night, a little groggy and disoriented after only a few hours of sleep. At first, he doesn’t know why he’s awake, but then he hears the rustling noises of someone trying to change as quietly as possible. He waits for the noise to subside before he speaks.

“Yifan?” His voice is a little low and rough with sleep, so he turns over to grab his bottle of water. “Did you only just get back?” He tries again after a few swallows. This time the rustle sounds up again, followed by some shuffling, and not long after the mattress dips under added weight. He reaches out blindly, putting a hand on the person’s back and one on the side of an arm.

“Yifan?” He attempts a third time. There is still no reply, but the person in his arms leans down and crawls into his embrace. Scent tells him it is indeed Yifan, because the tall male still doesn’t make a single sound. It’s only when he strokes the hair away from forehead and wet cheeks that he realises why.

His heart lurches, hands instantly reaching further, tugging his roommate further onto the bed and into his embrace until they’re lying nearly chest to chest, Yifan’s head buried into his shoulder. Only a faint trembling and the occasional twitch indicate that Yifan is still crying, because somehow, he still manages to breathe almost normally.

Yixing doesn’t try to speak, merely holds the older male close and runs a hand up and down Yifan’s back in what he hopes is a comforting manner. In the end, exhaustion seems to take his roommate under before he’s properly calmed down, because the breathing evens out even as the tears are still seeping into his shirt.

 

They don’t speak of it when they wake up hours later, don’t even mention the way they ended up in bed together again. Yifan goes back to the way things were and Yixing lets him do so.

He’s the last person allowed to force Yifan to talk, after all.

 

“Well, I’m going to miss you when you’re gone,” Chanyeol randomly says after one of their guitar jamming sessions. The sound dies in his throat at the words. Leaving has become all the harder after bearing witness to a crying Yifan, and he’s not entirely sure what it’ll be like to leave Chanyeol behind either.

“You still have Jongin,” he tries to be cheerful, but no smile makes it to his expression. Chanyeol breathes out something of a huff.

“Jongin doesn’t know how to play guitar, nor how to judge good music from bad,” the younger states like it’s obvious Jongin doesn’t qualify as a good replacement. “Worst of all he doesn’t know ow to appreciate my appreciation for Sehun.” This fact combined with Chanyeol’s expression finally does manage to pull a laugh from him, and he fondly gazes at the younger male for a little while longer.

“I’m going to miss you too,” he admits after the silence. “Maybe we can play together over video call or something.”

This, Chanyeol is more than willing to do.

 

The end of year party is two weeks before the actual graduation. Some people still have exams in the coming weeks – Yixing being one of them – but everyone still goes. It takes him all of an hour to feel out of place, his general mood not matching the festivities, and not even the idea of being able to dance changes that fact. He tells Chanyeol he’s going to get some air, then heads outside.

Nobody comes looking for him, not even after an hour has passed, but he doesn’t mind. Chanyeol probably found someone interesting for the night and no one else has seen him leave. For a while he considers just going home, but then he decides to give the party one more try.

He’s halfway back when sounds from a nearby street capture his attention. He’s not usually one to get involved with or even close to fighting, but he’s almost grateful for his own morbid sort of curiosity when he finds a gang of five beating up a single person. As he steps closer – with no idea of what he’s going to do once he reaches them – he realises with a start that that person is Chanyeol.

“What is this?” The voice is uninterested, almost bored, and all five of the guys look up. He turns to look as well, and instantly marvels at the bravery it must have taken for Jongin to approach these five guys all by himself. “Five against one, that’s hardly heroic.”

The bullies exchange glances, then one of them steps into Jongin’s path.

“He’s just getting what he deserves,” the male says, and with a start Yixing realises it’s one of Luhan’s friends. People he used to hang out with. A quick inspection tells him Luhan is not actually there, and this makes him feel relieved somehow. “It’s nothing to worry about, we can handle this.”

Jongin stops, eyes taking in the five guys again as if considering. Yixing realises the younger male has a dangerous sort of vibe around him now, nothing like the subdued youth reading books on his bed, too shy to talk much. For some reason he feels like he should step forward too, add his number to the strength, but his feet remain rooted in place.

“Hey!” This voice he knows. This voice almost makes him sag with relief. But even still, two against five doesn’t really even out the odds much, even if one of them is Yifan. He already sees the five men falter, though, and a quick glance to the side tells him why. Sehun is walking alongside Yifan, and as they side with Jongin, the three tall guys with their angry expressions make quite an impressive stand. He feels like he should join them somehow, but at the same time feels like he would only look ridiculous next to them. He’s not a fighter, after all.

“I thought I warned you to stay away from my friends? Or did I not make myself clear enough?” This Yifan is such a far throw from the one he’s gotten used to in the past couple of months that he needs a moment to accept it’s the same person. This is the Yifan who beat someone up in a bathroom, then smiled and went to take a leak. This Yifan advances on the five guys without hesitation, and apparently he’s well-known, because they back away slightly.

Surprisingly it’s Sehun who really steps forward, moving into their midst in order to get to Chanyeol. He’s followed closely by Jongin, neither of them seeming to pay any attention to the men standing around them. Apparently three to five are odds the guys don’t want to take, because none of them move as the two help Chanyeol up and slowly lead him back to Yifan.

He manages to make himself move only then, quickly running over and helping to support Chanyeol just in case Sehun might need his hands free to fight. This seems to be the deciding factor, because after a motion from one of the guys, they all walk away. Yixing doesn’t even hear the comments still thrown at them, too focused on Chanyeol.

“You okay?” He asks, worried and afraid.

“Are you kidding me?” Chanyeol retorts It’s soft and spoken with clear difficult, but the same cheerfulness is still in his voice and it is quickly followed by: “I was rescued by _Sehun_.”

Yixing figures Chanyeol will be totally fine.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is shorter, but i figured it was a good moment to end a chapter

They borrow one of the basketball team members’ cars to drive back to campus, so they can get Chanyeol to a nurse. Yifan and Jongin go along inside, but he stays outside with Sehun. It’s not long before the younger male turns to him.

“Hey, you alright?” He nods his head but can’t seem to produce any further sound and only a moment later an arm is put around his shoulders. “Sorry you had to see that,” he’s told, and it’s clear that Sehun is worried about him and trying to make him feel better. “Chanyeol’s made of pretty stern stuff, though, he’ll be fine.”

“Of course,” he manages to stay to that, looking up at the tall youth and attempting a smile. “He was already swooning over you again right after you brought him back. He’ll be just fine.” The words bring an amused smile to Sehun’s face and he once again marvels at how easily the younger male accepts the unwanted attraction without feeling uncomfortable in the slightest.

“Does this happen a lot?” He inquires after a moment of silence, and Sehun hums.

“It’s happened less since Yifan outed himself and the entire basketball team backed him up, but it still occurs. I’m not sure what it’ll be like now that Yifan’s leaving school. Luckily most of the bigger bullies like those guys are graduating too.”

He hums in reply but doesn’t get to say anymore about it as Yifan comes back out just then. The older male’s steps are quick; long strides taking him to Yixing’s side instantly.

“Are you okay?” Yifan inquires and the softness stands in such stark contrast with his earlier demeanour that for the first time Yixing wonders what it might take for the tall male to put up such a front – and which one of the personalities is actually real.

“I’m fine. I just happened upon that scene, I wasn’t involved at all,” he replies, trying to reassure Yifan that he didn’t get hurt while at the same time admitting that he didn’t try to help either. Yifan’s hands come up to cup his cheeks. He notices them from the corner of his eyes and an intense fear suddenly grips his heart. Before Yifan’s full intention can even become clear to anyone else, he pushes the taller male away.

Surprise widens Yifan’s eyes at the none too light shove he receives, their gazes lock over the distance newly put between them, something like hurt temporarily flashing in the taller male’s eyes.

Bewildered and suddenly very stressed, Yixing bolts inside.

 

The nurse tells him Chanyeol is fine, just a few bruises and a series of bruised ribs. He thanks her for her care at the late hour, then walks over to where Jongin is helping Chanyeol put his shirt back on.

“Hey,” he says softly, causing them both to look up. “I’m sorry I didn’t step in sooner.”

Chanyeol instantly waves off the apology. “They would have just beaten you up too, Yixing, you don’t have to apologise. No one would have been crazy enough to go in with odds like that.”

The words don’t really cheer him up for one main reason. He voices it out moments later. “Jongin did.”

The youngest is already not paying attention anymore, focused instead on helping Chanyeol put on his jacket next. A feat made marginally harder by the bout of laughter that bursts out of the taller one, his entire body shaking, followed by sounds of pain due to the bruised ribs. When eventually Chanyeol manages to catch his breath and straighten up again, he puts a hand on Yixing’s shoulders.

“Jongin’s our regional Judo champion. He would have kicked their butts quite badly before they could’ve taken him down. And these kinds of cowards never take a target that can defend itself.” A sound of disdain rolls off Chanyeol’s lips after those words. “Anyway, don’t take it to heart. If no one had shown up, you would have tried to help. I know that. Let’s just count ourselves lucky that they didn’t want to take on three opponents or things could have been a lot worse.”

Chanyeol gives him a reassuring smile and a pat on his back, then moves to put an arm around Jongin’s shoulders. Even the slow movement causes his friend to wince lightly.

“I’m going to get some rest now. I’ll see you Tuesday for our jamming session, okay?” Another smile is directed his way, both warm and reassuring. “Goodnight, Yixing.” Jongin wishes him a good night too, after which the two of them head off.

A hand lands on his shoulder not long after and he looks up in surprise to find Sehun standing next to him.

“You want to go back to the party or do you want to stay here?” The question comes a little sudden, but he shakes his head almost instantly.

“I’ll stay here. Thank you.”

Sehun simply nods, making no protests. “Alright. Goodnight then, Yixing. I’ll see you around.”

He nods in both agreement and greeting, then watches Sehun head back outside. He stands there for another moment, before slowly starting to walk back to his room.

 

Yifan returns a few hours later only, but he is still wide awake, seated on his bed and staring at the wall. Upon seeing him, the older male’s features shift to surprise.

“Couldn’t sleep?” The question is asked of him softly, but somehow also in a more neutral way than usual. He shakes his head in reply. Yifan hums, not coming any closer but not walking over to the other side of the room either. It takes him a full minute to realise that his roommate is waiting for him to indicate which one of the two it should be.

Their gazes temporarily lock as he glances over.

“I’m scared,” he admits then, voice somehow frailer than he intended it to be. Yifan instantly walks up to him at the admission, a hand reaches for his first, then – when he takes hold of it easily – the other is put on the side of his face. “What if it happens again? What if it’s me next time? What if it’s you?” He looks at Yifan’s face and knows without words that if they’d tried to do something to him, his roommate wouldn’t have just let them walk away. And experience dictates that if they’d tried to beat up Yifan, he would’ve simply beaten them right back.

“How can you live like this?” He asks, shocked by how heavily his voice trembles. “How can you live without being scared every second you’re walking around outside?”

Yifan’s fingers start to gently stroke over his cheek, and he can see in the older male’s eyes that a sense of understanding is finally settling there. As well as a sense of sympathy and a wish to be able to make all his worries disappear. He knows, though, that something like that is impossible. The world is what it is, people are the way they are. He knows that. He knows that, and still his gaze clings to Yifan’s, hoping to hear some words that are going to make it all okay.

“I refuse to be scared,” Yifan says after a moment, and he recognises the hardness that temporarily tightens the lines around his roommate’s eyes. “I refuse to let their fear of what they don’t understand become the reason I’m afraid. I will fight each and every single one of them to live the way I want to live if I have to. And if it ends up killing me, then so be it.”

The determination is admirable, certainly, and up to a certain level he can understand the sentiment. But the courageous words are not what grab his attention, nor are they what he comments on. Without missing a beat, his hand shoots up to take hold of Yifan’s, and this time he is the one leaving a kiss on its palm, eyes never leaving Yifan’s.

“I don’t want it to kill you,” he whispers, unable to speak any louder than that as he feels the tears slowly fill his eyes. Something shifts in Yifan’s face then, revealing something raw and almost vulnerable. Within the same heartbeat they both lean in, letting go of each other’s hands and wrapping each other in a tight embrace instead, both desperate and loving at the same time.

“I’m right here,” Yifan tells him, voice rough but sincere. “I’ll stay right here if you want me to.”

 

Yixing’s alarm clock is the first to go off, pulling him from one of the nicer dreams he enjoys having. He rolls over quietly, turning it off and rolling right back to bury himself in Yifan’s arms once more.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed exactly when he’s woken again, the surprisingly gentle tones of Yifan’s alarm clock waking them both up this time. He lets out a sound of displease as Yifan moves away from him, hands reaching to try and retain the warmth he was enjoying. He knows the older male has basketball practice, though, so he doesn’t attempt to truly stop the other from leaving.

To his surprise it takes less than a minute before the mattress dips again and Yifan’s arms slip around him once more. He shifts as much as it takes to be wrapped in both arms and blankets again, then lets out a few content little noises as he nuzzles against his roommate’s shoulder. A chuckle sounds up from right above him moments later.

“You are so fucking adorable.” Yifan’s voice is soft, low, still heavy from sleep but also filled with clear infatuation. It’s the first time that he hears the older male’s feelings so clearly in his voice, and it makes him open his eyes to glance up at the other, curious what the expression will look like.

He is not entirely prepared for the twinkle in Yifan’s eyes, nor for the complete and utter softness to the older male’s features that he can’t even properly seem to describe. But the loving gaze warms him inside, while at the same time Yifan’s messed up bed hair together with the still rather sleepy eyes makes for such a _cute_ sight that he hums lightly, then starts to smile in amusement.

“Look who’s talking,” he utters, leaning in on a whim to gently touch the tip of Yifan’s nose with his. The simple action only serves to make the look of love he’s receiving all the more loving and he decides to change the subject to avoid getting uncomfortable. “Don’t you have practice?” Luckily this question turns Yifan’s expression into something almost guilty and his eyebrows rise automatically in curious question.

“I ditched practice,” Yifan admits, and Yixing’s own face shifts into a mask of shock. “Told Sehun I was staying in today.” They look at each other for a moment longer, Yifan smiling a little sheepishly and Yixing still emitting absolute surprise, before they both start chuckling, burying closer together again as they do so.

“How dare you?” He manages to accuse the older male after a little while, a big grin still on his face. “Leaving your poor team members to fend for themselves.” This causes Yifan to laugh again, the sound vibrating in his chest, and Yixing contently leans in a little closer once more.

“I’m sure they’ll manage without me for the one time. I had other places to be.”

The way the arms tighten around him and a kiss lands in his hair tells him where exactly those ‘other places’ are. He gratefully closes his eyes and breathes in Yifan’s scent, letting the comfort of it relax his muscles and take the tension from his chest.

 

“Happy two months.”

His eyes take in the small gift-wrapped box Yifan puts down in front of him, then travel up to his roommate’s face in question. All Yifan does is shrug lightly, nodding at the gift next to bring his attention back to it.

“I wanted you to have something to remember us by.”

The words would have hurt, reminding him of the little time they have left together, if not for the fact that his packed bags standing to one side of his bed have never let him forget that fact since he has gathered all his belongings within them.

He reaches for the gift slowly, surprised to realise that it has actually been two entire months since their decision to be honest with each other and be together, at least in the safety of their dorm room.

“I didn’t get you anything,” he says, looking up at Yifan again, who merely smiles at him.

“That’s fine. Just open it.”

He gives one more doubtful look at the gift, then does as he’s told. The gift wrapping comes off easily, revealing a small, black box. If he didn’t consider it highly unlikely for Yifan to buy him a ring or earrings – considering he never wears either – he would’ve thought it a jewellery box. As it is, he has no idea what to expect and so he simply moves to take the lid off the box.

Inside rests a gleaming, brownish plectrum, absolutely perfect looking without a single blemish. Closer inspection reveals a date carved into it, so small and close to the side that it could easily be overlooked. He doesn’t need a long look to realise which date would have been so carefully crafted into the gift.

He goes completely quiet, incapable of speech for a while as he carefully takes the plectrum from its box. He notices then the small, steel ring underneath as well as a tiny hole in one of the corners.

“In case you want to put it on a keychain or a necklace,” Yifan clarifies without being asked. All he can do is nod, to indicate he understood, still finding no words and still unable to tear his eyes from the gift.

There is a long silence in which he turns the plectrum over in his fingers a few times, admiring every side of the clearly handcrafted little design. When eventually he manages to look up at Yifan, his throat is tight and his eyes watery with emotion.

“I love it,” he manages to breathe out. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

Yifan smiles at him warmly, nodding to indicate it’s no big deal, then leaning in to leave a kiss on his forehead. His eyes temporarily close at the contact, after which he puts the plectrum back in its box and gets up, so he can hug the other male.

“Thank you,” he repeats softly as he rests his head on Yifan’s shoulder. “For everything. Thank you.”

“I’ll take it you don’t dislike me anymore then,” Yifan says, jokingly, and the tension in his chest breaks with his amusement. “Don’t think I’m an asshole anymore?”

“You’re still an ass,” he replies easily, pushing the older male away lightly with a grin on his face so he can look at him. “But I like you.” The grin dies away as he turns serious all of a sudden “Very much.”

He doesn’t even attempt to pretend he’s not as head over heels as they both know he is then.

 

Loads of people come say goodbye to him in the following days. People from his classes, people from the hallway who heard he’s leaving. At one point the entire basketball team piles into the room with a collective gift from them all. For the first time since he came to the school, he even meets Sehun’s girlfriend. She’s kind and full of laughter, and expresses her sadness over not having been able to actually get to know him despite everything Chanyeol apparently already told her about him.

He’s so used to random people coming by that he simply gets up and goes to open the door whenever anyone knocks. So when one of those instances suddenly brings him face to face with Luhan, the smile freezes on his face and he almost automatically takes a step back, ready to slam the door closed between them should the need for it arise.

But all Luhan does is hold up a letter, then reach it out to him almost gingerly.

“This came for you. I think you forgot to change your address from mine once you got your own dorm.” Surprisingly there’s no blame in the words, and so he lets go of the door handle to take the letter from his one-time friend.

“I figured maybe you need whatever it is for the trip back, so I thought I’d come bring it over.”

“I- Thanks.” As Luhan’s fingers let go of the envelope, they both stand looking down at it in silence for a moment, and Yixing can’t help but remember all the ways Luhan helped him both with arranging the trip as with finding everything at school in his first few weeks there.  He suddenly feels guilty.

“Luhan y- Thank you.” He lifts his gaze again, just as the other male does too and this time they look at each other in silence for a while. Then Luhan shrugs.

“Don’t worry about it,” the older male says, and it actually sounds sincere. “I hope you still had a good year.”

He nods, considering how nice Luhan still is. Wondering if he should have tried to restore their friendship, to somehow make amends for the punch he’d dealt.

“Well, have a safe trip home. Give my regards to your mother, I hope she’s well.” He nods again, and even manages a smile as Luhan smiles at him as well.

Then whatever illusions he was making come apart again entirely when Luhan adds: “I think going home will do you good.” And the disdainful look the doe-eyed elder gives Yifan’s side of the room tells him exactly what those words mean.

He closes the door before Luhan has even properly turned away.

 

On his last evening in the dorms, Chanyeol and Jongin come to visit. Results are out, so everyone’s busy congratulating each other when Sehun also drops by. It turns into an impromptu little party that even the usually quiet Jongin decides to stick around for.

They drink whatever beer and soda they manage to assemble, then order fried chicken and soju to continue with. He can only be grateful his flight is not an early morning one when the group opens their fifth bottle of soju already.

“How come your girlfriend isn’t here?” He asks Sehun at one point, emboldened by the alcohol in his system. The younger male looks at him with surprise first, then starts to grin.

“She doesn’t really see eye to eye with Yifan, to put it mildly. So she prefers not to come along whenever he’s around.” Sehun shrugs lightly. “If she’d known Chanyeol was here too, though, I’m pretty sure she would have come along regardless. But alas, I wasn’t aware of that either before I came here.” A chuckle erupts from the younger male and he grins right back.

“Of course she would have,” Chanyeol enthusiastically butts in then. “Because unlike some people-” He gives Yifan a pointed look here. “-she knows where the good things in life are.”

Luckily the older male doesn’t seem to take the comment to heart and when Yixing looks over, he notices Yifan’s eyes are still on him, as they have been the entire night without fail. He receives a small smile at his gaze, but it doesn’t seem to reach his roommate’s eyes.

And suddenly, in the middle of all that drunk cheerfulness, he feels very, very sad.

 

“We definitely are going to keep in contact, okay?” Chanyeol drawls later that night as he’s wrapped into a clumsy, drunk hug. “And have our jamming sessions over videocall. You need to keep being my judge of good music because Jongin sucks at it!”

Said youth makes yet another attempt at prying Chanyeol loose from around him, which is surprisingly successful this time around.

“Don’t forget about me, Yixing! Remember me and my dashingly good looks! Tell your neighbours, tell your friends! As long as they’re tall and athletic, I see no nationality!” Chanyeol still goes on and despite how sad he feels about having to say goodbye, he still grins at the cheekiness of his drunk friend.

“Take care of yourself, Yixing,” Jongin tells him in a much more sober manner, keeping his arms tightly around Chanyeol to keep the taller male from leaning in once more. “Get home safe.”

The youngest nods at him, then proceeds to drag Chanyeol out into the hallway and back towards their own room.

He’s faced with Sehun next, who is clearly also a little drunk but luckily a lot less vocal about it than Chanyeol of course was.

“It’s been great meeting you,” the basketball player tells him, and to his great surprise he’s pulled into another hug this time too. “Thanks for making Yifan somewhat bearable to live with this past year. And for helping us beat him at paintball _and_ bowling.” He can’t help but grin at this, hearing Sehun chuckle as well.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he’s told when the hug ends and Sehun straightens up again. “And if you’re ever around here again you should definitely visit.”

“I will,” he easily agrees, smiling at the younger male. “Take care of yourself, Sehun. Maybe we’ll meet again.” His smile turns amused as he thinks of something. “And good luck with resisting Chanyeol’s _charming_ advances.” They both laugh at that. Then Sehun goes to hug Yifan tightly too and he notices the encouraging pat on the shoulder right after.

When the door closes and locks behind Sehun, everything goes painfully quiet.

 

They look at each other for a vey long time, Yifan standing at the door and Yixing still there where both Chanyeol and Sehun have left him, in the middle of the room.

His leaving is imminent now, and he knows he should say goodbye somehow, but the just can’t seem to get the words out. All he really wants to do is bury deep into Yifan’s embrace and not come out until he has to leave. Well, if life was any different, he’d choose never to come back out, but as things are the former sounds like the best decision.

He doesn’t know what Yifan is thinking about or which choice the older male would much rather make, for Yifan’s expression is neutral, not showing any one emotion. After a very long silence, though, the older male eventually speaks up.

“You should go to bed. It’s late and you have a long travel ahead of you.”

He nods his head in agreement but doesn’t move from his spot. It’s only after several more minutes of silence that he manages some words himself.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry this was all the time we got. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest sooner. I’m sorry I don’t- I didn’t-”

Yifan closes the distance between them, taking hold of his face and silencing him with a lingering kiss. When he eventually dares open his eyes again, he is shocked to see tears shine in Yifan’s. Instinctively, he brings up his own hands, stroking Yifan’s cheek, running fingers through his hair and attempting any sort of comfort. The tears don’t go away, but they don’t roll down Yifan’s cheek either.

They share another kiss. This one longer and more intimate as Yifan’s arms come around him and draw him in closer. He willingly presses himself as close as he can get-, attempting to forget how little hours there are left until he has to leave for the airport.

For a while, with his hands on the bare skin of Yifan’s chest and the arms never letting go of him, he manages to do just that.

 

Some hours later, they lie cuddled up in bed together, his fingers steadily threading through Yifan’s hair while the older male’s fingers trace invisible patterns on his arms. He hasn’t even taken the time to change out of his clothes, not wanting to waste a single moment of the time he still gets to spend with Yifan.

As the older male shifts, the tracing ends temporarily, then gets resumed on his lower back once the arms are wrapped properly around him once more.

“Yixing,” Yifan says after a while, and his name has never managed to sound quite like that on anyone else’s tongue. He tilts his head to be able to look at his roommate properly. The room’s darkness doesn’t give him much of a view, but he can distinguish the outlines of Yifan’s face at least.

“No matter what,” the older male says, and he hears both sadness and sincerity in the voice. “I think it was worth it.” With the last word, the usually steady voice cracks ever so slightly.

And he knows then, that he did indeed manage to break Wu Yifan’s heart.

 

He takes a taxi to the airport the next day, bringing no one along to see him off. Once he’s made it past the security and to the right gate, he heads to the bathroom.

Where he silently cries in a stall until they announce his flight’s boarding over the speakers.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song for this chapter because i'm feeling it: back to you - selena gomez

“Yixing, darling!”

His mother descends on him in a whirlwind of laughter and tears at the same time. He lets her hug him, pat down his hair, take a proper look at him then hug him again, all the while smiling lightly at her.

It feels very good to see her again, and the familiar sounds of Chinese all around finally put to rest the homesickness that has never quite left him in the last couple of months. As she tells him he looks tired, he agrees with a hum, then lets her take only the smallest of his bags before following her out of the airport.

She never stops talking, telling him about the food she’s got prepared, about the aunties and uncles that will come to visit. She tells him of the several interesting things that happened while he was gone, as well as of a few uninteresting ones that she tells him anyway because ‘he ought to know them.’

He lets the flood of words pass over him almost passively, too tired to talk much himself anyway and grateful to be back with someone who knows him well enough to be aware of that. When eventually his mother’s stream of words subsides a little – after mentioning several more times how much she’s missed him and how glad she is that he’s back – they sit in the back of the taxi in silence, with this mother occasionally patting his hand or his leg to express her happiness.

Once home – with half the family there to welcome him back – he can’t really escape talking about his year abroad. So he tells them of classes, of how he had some trouble a first with the language but how he’d picked it up rather quickly. He tells them of what he learned, of the friends he made. He tells them of Chanyeol and how they’d play guitar together. He tells them of Jongin, Chanyeol’s roommate the Judo champion. He tells them of his own roommate, who seemed unlikable at first but who turned out to be nice. He tells them of Sehun and the rest of the basketball team.

When eventually he’s done telling, other people take over the talking and he sits and listens to their stories instead.

Somewhere around midnight, his mother tells him to go to bed and he gladly obliges, wishing his family a good night, then heading to this room.

He’s asleep before his head fully hits the pillow.

 

Trying to get used to being at home again is harder than expected. Tuesdays are entirely empty now that he no longer gets to play guitar with Chanyeol. With no school to go to or classes to attend, he temporarily falls into a black hole.

Doing the errands his mother gives him helps, as well as binge watching a few series. But eventually he ends up in the same place every time; on his bed, staring at the wall, seeing nothing.

His mother notices. Of course she notices. She tells him to find a job, tells him to make some music. She suggests new hobbies, tries to take him out for walks more often, shows him all kinds of events nearby he could maybe go to. At one point she even suggests getting a puppy, but he refuses on the grounds of them having too little space to keep it in.

She tries to give him everything and he goes to everything she suggests. He contacts his old friends, gets back into the music club. He grabs coffee, he visits the library. Slowly but surely, his days get filled again. He falls back into a certain pattern, finds a new routine and life settles. He settles. He smiles, he laughs, he tells his friends stories of life abroad and listens to their stories of life after graduation.

In the evening, he goes home, sits on his bed, stares at the wall and sees nothing.

 

“Darling, are you alright?”

He looks up from the tv screen to see his mother gazing at him with a worried frown on her face.

“You just don’t quite seem like yourself lately. Is something wrong? Is there something you want to talk about?”

He smiles at her reassuringly, shaking his head lightly and reaching out a hand to put it on hers.

“I’m fine, mom. Just tired. Maybe I’ve been taking up a little too many things while trying to get used to being home again. I might just go back to only the guitar and piano practice. Maybe just guitar. I’ve been thinking about getting a job now. It might not be anything much at first, but I’ve got to start somewhere, right?”

She smiles back at him at that, giving his hand a little squeeze. “Just don’t overwork yourself, that’s not healthy either. I’d rather you take some extra time to settle yourself than that you rush into things and end up unhappy.”

Gratitude fills him at her words, knowing that most people don’t have parents who say something like this, unless when it’s too late. He smiles at her more brightly, then suddenly leans in and lets himself topple over. As his head comes to a rest in her lap, he looks up at her in the cutest way he can manage.

“Mom mom mom mom mom mom mom mom mom,” he chimes in the way he used to do when he was younger, knowing how much she likes it to see him like this, to be allowed to give him affection. “Scratch my back for me, mom? Please?” He gazes up at her with his best pleading face, causing her to laugh, swat him over the head fondly and then do as he asks.

They sit together like that for several more hours, laughing and playing together while the tv is on in the background. When he goes to bed that night, there’s a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach and he falls asleep not long after.

 

He reorganises his days, drops a few of his new hobbies and goes back to mostly writing and playing music. Occasionally he browses the nearby job offers but never seems to find anything he likes. Still, life becomes more peaceful, he finds happiness in the times spent with his mother, realising more and more how much he has missed her while he was gone.

Then one day she calls him over from his room in the middle of the afternoon. He’s frowning worriedly by the time he reaches her, as it’s not time to eat yet and she doesn’t usually call him for anything else. His mother merely reaches the phone out to him, however, and smiles. “It’s for you,” she says, brushing aside the hair falling in front of his eyes before she goes back to the living room. He looks after her for a moment in confusion, then down at the phone, which he eventually brings up to his ear.

“Hello?” He realises he sounds a little hesitant as the word leaves him but by then it’s too late to change his tone. As he mentally prepares for the remark this or the other family member is going to make about it, he hears a few strange noises from the other side of the line like the phone is being moved somehow.

“Hello?” A voice then says, and it’s most definitely not Chinese, nor any of his relatives. “Yixing is that you? Are you there? Hello?”

He can’t help it; he smiles. He smiles so wide his cheeks hurt, then even wider.

“I swear if this is not Yixing and you’re having me talk to some random Chinese person with no clue what I’m saying I will put salt in all of your coffee till the rest of eternity, you hear me! This is not funny, I-”

“Chanyeol,” he decides to interrupt right then. “It is me. Hi.”

“Yixing!” The response is instant, almost explosive with its enthusiasm. “So you _do_ remember me! Here you left us with nothing but your temporary phone number saying you’d reach out and then we hear _nothing_ for _weeks_!”

The guilt is instant and so huge he almost sits down right where he’s standing. Of course he’d known he had made that promise, but he’d been too afraid to reach out. Too afraid to deal with how much he would most probably miss them all. And he does, he realises now, and he already did anyway, but hearing Chanyeol talk is like a soothing balm to that wound already.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and despite it all he’s still smiling because he’s talking to Chanyeol again and it somehow makes him feel more at home even though he’s already standing in his own house. “It was a bit hectic coming home a-”

“Never mind that, it’s no big deal,” Chanyeol interrupts him, thereby keeping him from trying to make it sound like it wasn’t done on purpose. He feels relieved that he doesn’t have to lie, and then guilty again for having meant to do so.

“Tell me, what is your Chinese phone number, then I can call you on some app or something and use data rather than money to spend on it! Oh, and Jongin says hi.” There’s a pause not even long enough for him to take a breath to speak before Chanyeol adds: “Sehun and Mirae do too.”

He laughs then, amusement bubbling out of him so suddenly and in such quantity that he needs a good minute to recover. It doesn’t help that in between laughter of his own, Chanyeol makes several mock complaints about the phone bill only getting ‘laughably higher’ and other puns like that.

When eventually he manages to speak properly again, he passes on his phone number and they immediately move the call to an online one.

 

He talks to Chanyeol all the way until dinner, talking about everything he’s done since getting back and mostly listening to the younger male talk about his own weeks of holiday. It’s only when his mother calls for him that they hang up, and he heads downstairs with a grin still on his face.

“Did you have a good talk?” His mother asks, smiling at him warmly, and he nods his head.

“Yeah. Chanyeol’s always nice to talk to. He never runs out of stories to tell, I think.” He smiles as well, accepting his portion of food and sitting down properly. “It was very nice to talk to him again, actually. We’re going to do it again tomorrow. He has composed a few songs again that he wants me to listen to.”

That’s nice,” his mother says, clearly genuinely happy for him. “It’s good they called then. That Yifan is still such a very polite boy. Very nice.”

She starts on her dinner as well, saying something else that he no longer hears. Until that point, he hadn’t fully realised how much Chanyeol had avoided using the name, but it makes total sense that he would go to a Chinese person to speak to every Zhang in the phonebook until they found the right one.

Still, nothing could have prepared him for the way his chest constricts, his heart leaps, his stomach drops and his eyes sting at the mere mention of that name. As if with the mere sound of it, his mother has summoned everything Yifan-related back into his life. Including the feelings.

He needs a moment to regain his composure, but luckily his mother doesn’t notice with the way he’s hunched over his food. Swallowing a few times to try and regain control over his throat and voice, he eventually lifts his head but a trifle.

“Is he?” He tries to say as nonchalantly as possible. “I don’t recall him as being _polite_ of all things, but maybe you entranced him into decent manners with how naturally amazing you are.” He manages a smile, then, albeit barely, and gets to watch his mother burst out in laughter.

“Oh stop it you little flatterer,” she says, before her eyes suddenly narrow playfully and she adds: “What did you break this time or what do you need?”

He laughs too then, remembering the time when he was young and had accidentally broken one of his mother’s precious vases. He’d found no better solution than to bring her breakfast in bed the next morning, plying her with everything she loved to eat before confessing to his ‘crime.’ She’d forgiven him easily enough then but had always feigned suspicion whenever he was nicer than usual from then on.

“Only your love and food three times a day, mom,” he replies when they’re done laughing, causing his mother to smile at him warmly and reach out to put a hand on his.

“You always have that, my boy. And you always will.”

 

It’s easy to forget all about the heaviness of his heart in the evening, sitting in the couch watching tv with his mother while she peels them some fruit and comments on almost everything that’s being said by the people on the screen. It’s easy then to pretend that it’s never been any different from this, just the two of them together as a family.

It becomes a lot less easy to be okay when he’s lying in bed in the dark, exhaustion pulling at his limbs and causing his head to hurt, but memories and loneliness keeping him wide awake. He gazes at the name in his contact list for a very, very long time, wondering if it would be better to delete it or to reach out. Wondering which of the two would be the least hurtful.

Eventually, in the middle of deciding whether or not Yifan would want to talk to him, he figures there’s only one way to find out. He writes a quick ‘Hi,’ taking a few moments to just look at the word before finally sending it. The reply chimes before he’s even moved his phone aside, an exact mirror of his own message. Almost as if they’d been typing at the same time.

Before he’s fully managed to grasp the situation – and to consider a reply – his phone suddenly buzzes, and he quickly picks up the call before the music can start, not wanting it to wake up his mom at three in the morning. He brings the phone to his ear slowly, then gathers all his courage before speaking.

“Hi,” he says, almost dumbly, glad for the earlier conversation with Chanyeol so at least he’s a little more used to the language again than he was. They could, of course, speak Chinese too, but it somehow feels safer not to.

“Hiya Mary.” The sound of that familiar voice and the way the nickname crackles over the line is his final undoing. He closes his eyes, feeling the tears gather in them automatically, and just lies there in silence for a long time saying absolutely nothing. When eventually he manages to force himself to speak, it’s with a thick voice and clear difficulty.

“Mom says you’re still as polite as ever.” He pauses, breathes through clenched teeth, then makes himself add: “I never know what on earth she means by that.”

Yifan chuckles, the sound low and soft and oh so heart-wrenchingly familiar. “It’s a side of myself I reserve especially for her. You don’t have to understand it. As long as she thinks that, it serves its purpose.”

As Yifan speaks, all he can hear is the softness that’s still there, the way none of his actions have influenced the existence of _his_ voice, and he knows because of it that Yifan understands, that Yifan’s still there, that he’s still loved.

“I miss you,” he admits to the complete darkness, to the person whose breath temporarily hitches on the other side. And he knows that despite the unwavering composure, Yifan’s crying just the same.

He doesn’t expect an answer, so it’s not as painful when he doesn’t get one, and he feels almost content just listening to the crackle of the line as they both remain silent. Eventually it’s Yifan who speaks again.

“Yixing,” he says, his voice steady once more, not even wavering a little. “Whatever you want to give… I’ll take anything I can get.”

 

The smiles come easier the next day, despite his severe lack of sleep. Half of his videocall with Chanyeol consists of laughter, mostly induced by the jokes he makes. The number of songs he writes in the following weeks increases too, thanks to their combined skills. Chanyeol tells him to record some and put them online, he says he’ll think about it.

The middle of the night is when he talks to Yifan. When they can be the most honest, when they don’t have to be afraid of being overheard. And yet they still use Korean, just in case his mother might be listening after all. He’s not very afraid of that, though, considering how soft they tend to speak, sometimes just spending hours in silence, merely enjoying each other’s presence on the other side of the line.

 

He manages for two weeks. Two blissful, sleep-deprived weeks. Slowly but surely the amount of time spent with Yifan makes him miss their closeness, however. The late-night cuddles, the kisses in his hair and the patterns traced on his skin. The longing sits in his chest even throughout the day, his eyes heavier even though he starts to sleep more again.

And to make things worse, his mother gives him a long look at breakfast one day, then says: “Darling, did you meet someone special?”

He nearly chokes on the spoonful of rice he just put in his mouth and has to endure a heavy coughing fit as his body tries to expel the one grain from his lungs again. When eventually he calms down, his mother gives him some water to drink first and he gladly takes a few cooling sips. As he puts the glass down, she speaks again.

“I heard you talk on the phone last night. Well I think you were on the phone.” She smiles at him lightly, reaching out a hand to put on his. “You know you can tell me anything, right? If you met someone, I’d love to hear about it. Whatever you feel like telling me, I’m always here to listen to you.”

He smiles. It feels like it’s only sheer panic that makes him capable of smiling this widely. It certainly is sheer panic that makes him capable of lying straight to his mother’s face.

“No, mom, I didn’t meet anyone special. I’ve told you about all the people I met. Maybe you heard me talking to myself last night.” He shakes his head lightly, the n grins as he cracks a joke too. “Or maybe I was talking in my sleep.”

They both know better, of course. A year abroad is not going to suddenly make him dream in another language, nor is he fluent enough to absentmindedly use said language when talking to himself. But his mother merely hums and drops the subject again, apparently convinced for the time being or unwilling to press him further.

 

“I don’t think this is a good idea anymore, Yifan.”

The silence that falls after his words is deafening, but he doesn’t need the older male to talk to know he’s being an asshole again. After all, it’s like he’s playing yoyo with Yifan’s feelings. He knows this, but he also knows he still can’t admit the truth to his mother. He doesn’t want to lose her.

“We can still talk if you want, but during the day. About normal things. When we have time. We both need to get better sleep anyway.”

The continued silence weighs heavily on him, but he can’t manage to change it. Clearing his throat, he balls his free hand into a fist, then pushes out the rest of the words to get it over with.

“I’m sorry. I’m going to hang up now. Good night.”

He waits a heartbeat longer for any sort of reply – which his barely long enough to take a breath to speak – then presses the red button.

In the darkness that follows, the silence seems even heavier.

 

He crosses the hallway on bare feet, like he hasn’t done anymore in over a decade, and comes to a stop in front of his mother’s bedroom door. There’s only a split moment of hesitation before he goes inside, too in need of her comfort to leave her to her sleep. He gets all the way to the bed without waking her, the breathing pattern only changing when he moves the covers.

As he crawls under the blankets with her, she doesn’t even show much surprise, simply turning over so she can reach out and stroke through his hair once. He doesn’t let his age stop him from hiding in her embrace and burying himself in the hug, looking for comfort.

“What’s wrong, my darling?” The voice only breaks the silence when he starts to tremble, but he merely shakes his head. He wouldn’t know how to explain anyway, and especially not in such a way that she’d not figure out the truth.

Secrets, he decides, are the toughest things in the world.

His mother gathers him a little closer in her arms and he gladly lets himself get pat on the head and back. When eventually he falls asleep, it’s to the sound of her whispered reassurances and terms of affection

 

“What was wrong last night?” She asks him over breakfast and he knows he can’t bullshit his way out of this one.

“I was just sad.” His eyes temporarily flicker to the side, unable to keep looking at her. “I’m just a bit lonely. I think. There were always friends around there, I’m still having a bit of trouble adapting to being alone again.”

She hums, and he hears the acceptance of his answer bundled with understanding. “Maybe you can look into co-housing? Rent a space with other people?”

The thought does not appeal to him at all. He likes it at home. He just wishes he could have a certain someone there with him. But he can’t quite tell her that, so his reply becomes a little different.

“And leave you all alone? I couldn’t do that.”

“That’s nothing! You’ll do it anyway when you get married,” she replies matter-of-factly, and it feels like a heavy rock is placed on his chest.

“That’s still a long way off, mom, and I don’t think I’d leave you like that even then.”

The smile she gives him is warm, grateful and loving. He cherishes the sight of it like one of his dearest possessions, committing it to memory almost studiously. Just in case one day he’ll stop receiving those smiles from her.

 

“Yo, Z-man!”

Chanyeol’s been learning English to be able to better communicate with the hot, British guy he’s currently dating. He also wants to promote himself to boyfriend during the guy’s holiday – whatever the difference is from dating. It sounds a little strange to Yixing, but then lots of what Chanyeol says does, so he’s stopped questioning it and has simply decided to roll with it – random English slipped into their conversations included.

“Guess who I’m visiting today?”

Jongin’s face appears in the video image, a short wave directed at him. He smiles back instantly, about to say something when the camera moves and focuses back on Chanyeol.

“No, it’s not Jongin,” his friend says with a mischievous little grin, then turns the phone again. Sehun and Mirae come into view, both smiling, although Sehun rolls his eyes lightly over Chanyeol’s antics

“Hey Yixing! Good to see you! Have you been well?” Mirae chimes happily and he nods his head in response like an automated robot. Sehun smiles at the camera too and leans in a little closer.

“Likewise from me. You look healthy, that’s good.”

It’s always easy to smile genuinely back at Sehun, even when he doesn’t know what to reply. Something about the younger male always makes him feel instantly at ease. But then the expression freezes when a new voice sounds up and Chanyeol turns the camera to reveal Yifan entering the room with a couple of soda cans in hand.

“Your mom told me to bring these up, Sehun,” he’s saying, then frowns at the sudden attention.

“Say hi to Yixing,” Chanyeol pipes up cluelessly and the frown smooths out again. A little too quickly to happen naturally, Yixing thinks. But nothing in the tall male’s face nor voice suggests anything out of the ordinary between them when Yifan speaks again.

“Hiya, Mary. Hope you haven’t been spilling your drinks lately.”

Once again, he gets to bear witness to Yifan’s flawless capability to act like nothing strange is going on at all and once again it hits him like a punch to the gut after the weeks they’ve gone without any contact whatsoever.

“No,” he manages to utter, somehow sounding almost normal. “No, the drinks are all staying upright.”

There’s laughter from the others, but his gaze stays on Yifan until he goes out of sight as the camera moves back to Chanyeol.

Later that day, he suddenly gets a text from Yifan with the almost simple words ‘It was good to see you again. Hope you’ve been well.’ He takes a little while before replying, but it sets the conversation in motion once more when he does.

 

The weeks that follow are good, but he finds himself near crying much more often than before. Talking to Yifan again is definitely nice. On the other hand, however, their superficial conversations don’t even come close to what he really wants to be sharing with the older male and the sting of missing only becomes sharper with every night he spends alone and every word of affection he swallows rather than speaking out loud.

At the same time, everything he learns about Yifan’s life makes him both happy – to know the older male is doing well – as jealous because of all the people that  _do_ get to have him as a part of their lives. He gets torn between his love and reality on a daily basis, a practice that wears him down to the bone. His mother starts to ask questions again because of how tired and unhealthy he looks, his friends asking why he never hangs out with them anymore.

Then one day his phone rings, unfamiliar number on the screen, and he picks up cluelessly.

“Hello?”

“With all due respect, Yixing, please make up your mind. Yifan has been going through a rollercoaster of emotions because of you and quite frankly I can’t bear to see him like this anymore.” Sehun’s voice somehow still manages to sound friendly despite the words being spoken. Yixing is stunned into silence regardless, though.

“I don’t mean to criticise you, nor am I angry at you, but I ask you to please decide. If you don’t want to be with Yifan, then stop talking to him, stop responding to his messages. Let him get over you. If you keep talking to him he will continue to suffer as long as you're not actually together with him.”

A sigh. “Honestly, this guy would fly back to China for you. Hell, he’d probably even move to the North Pole for you if that’s where you wanted to go. But this..this almost nothing is tearing him apart and it’s heart breaking to have to watch.”

There’s a pause, Sehun seemingly calming himself down by taking a breath. Then he speaks again, a lot less rushed and more like himself. “Also, please don’t tell Yifan I told you any of this or he’ll kill me. Just please consider what I said? I know you’re not doing this on purpose, but he is honestly just so unnameably in love with you and everything you do affects him so much that if you don’t want him you should just … leave him.”

The silence that falls soon enough grows uncomfortably long as Yixing has no idea what to respond to that with. Sehun eventually seems to decide no reaction will follow and clears his throat.

“Well that’s… that’s all I wanted to say. I hope I didn’t disturb you and that you’ve been well. Take care, okay? I’m going to hang up now because I’m paying for this call.”

“Okay,” he finally manages to say, but nothing else.

The line goes dead.

 

He’s dazed for the rest of the day, Sehun’s words repeating in his mind over and over. The more he considers it, the more he realises Sehun is right, and the more he decides he should let Yifan go. Yet somehow the longer he thinks about it, the sadder he feels too. Until eventually at dinner when his mother once again asks him if something’s wrong, the tears spring into his eyes without warning, a sob wrecking through his body before he can even compose himself.

“Yixing!” His mother exclaims instantly, surprise and worry both audible in the tone of her voice. She puts the plates down and walks around the table to put her arms around him. Hiding his face against her stomach, he holds a desperate fight against his emotions, trying to get the upper hand.

“What’s wrong, my boy? What’s wrong?” His mother once again asks after some silence, continuing to run a hand over his hair in soothing motions. He wants to answer, he wants to tell her everything, but he sees all too clearly the image of his father carrying his bags out of the door.

It had taken some years, but he’d eventually realised what had gone wrong from the bits and pieces of information his family dropped about it when they thought he couldn’t hear.

His father had left his mother because he’d found himself in love with a man and had decided to figure that side of him out rather than stay with his family. The man had become the disgrace of his entire family because of it, and the only communication he’d had with his father had been the one-way birthday cards that had dutifully arrived in the mail every October.

His mother never spoke of the man again after that day, though, but he still remembers how he’d found her in the couch that evening. She’d been crying, and he’d crawled into her lap in an effort to comfort her. “Why would anyone _do_ that!?” She’d said, and he’d heard as well as seen the hurt, the betrayal, the pain, the hatred, the _disgust_.

So how can he tell her now that her son is exactly the same? How can he tell her that he wishes nothing more than to be with Yifan for the rest of his life? The thought nearly chokes him, and he quickly swallows away the lump in his throat.

“It’s nothing. Just tired, I guess. Sorry f-”

“Zhang Yixing!” His full name is never used as anything other than a threat and he stiffens automatically at the sternness of her voice as his mother pushes him away from her by his shoulders so she can look at him. “You are _not_ okay. I have known you your entire life. I can see when something’s wrong and I am tired of watching you grow steadily worse without knowing what is wrong or how to help you. Now tell me what’s going on, so I can do my motherly duty and help you figure it out.”

He only manages the eye contact a moment longer, then hangs his head in both shame and defeat. He’s never lied to his mother before, and now he seems to do nothing but. It’s something he can’t keep doing. Not even to keep her by his side. Because he knows it’ll break more than it’ll save anyway.

So he takes a deep breath, glances at the hands on his shoulders one last time, thinks of the loving smile and closes his eyes tightly.

He never thought he’d ever have the courage, but he finds it now, sitting at the pit of his stomach, alongside the thought of Yifan smiling that soft smile at him and running gentle fingertips over his skin. And with that heart-warming image in mind, he takes the leap.

“I’m in love with a guy, mom. I’m gay.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i keep thinking "this is probably going to be the last chapter" and the story keeps going "hahahahahahahahahaha nah."

He expected a longer, shocked silence. Or maybe a gasp of some sort to indicate her feelings of shock and betrayal. He was even prepared for a shove out of disgust, anything to signal how much she no longer wants to have anything to do with him. What he wasn’t prepared for, not even in his wildest dreams, is the way she pulls him back into a tight hug, a sympathetic sigh leaving her.

“Oh baby,” she says, running her hand over his hair once more and landing a kiss in it as well. “That’s okay, darling, we’ll fix it somehow. Th-”

“I don’t want to ‘fix it’, there’s nothing wrong with me,” he protests, pushing her away lightly. “I just want to… I just want to be with him.” His own vehemence surprises him, the certainty with which he speaks that last sentence does so even more. His mother seems shocked too for a moment, but then her smile returns, and she takes hold of his face with both hands next.

“That’s not what I meant, baby. I meant we’ll make it work. Your family doesn’t have to know unless you want them to. Who is it? Is it that boy you’re always playing guitar with?”

He’s so stunned by her easy acceptance that he almost automatically shakes his head and replies with the long-unspoken name. “Yifan.”

His mother’s expression brightens instantly, a fond smile returning to her face. “Oh, baby, that’s wonderful. He’s such a nice boy. Does he like you too?” He nods numbly, eyes taking in his mother as she’s always been, no changes wrought because of his confession, no difference in the amount of love displayed towards him.

She seems to notice his hesitance, because her thumb gently brushes his cheek. “What’s wrong, darling? Why are you looking at me like that?” Her voice is gentle, a little worried, and his chest aches because of it.

“You’re not mad. You’re not even upset.”

“Of course not, honey. Why would you think that?”

He pauses, he blinks. “But dad…”

“Your father was an entirely different thing, Yixing,” his mother interrupts him with a final tone of voice, but he shakes his head lightly.

“That’s not true. I know why he left. I know he fell in love with a man and left to have a life with him. I saw you cry, I saw you mourn him and hate him. Why don’t you hate me?”

His eyes cling to his mother’s face, trying to figure out why none of this is going the way he expected it to. Not that he wants it to go that horribly, but the way she responds to him now simply does not go along with how he has known her to be all these years.

She looks at him for a long time too, studying his face as if considering his worth. Eventually she sighs and takes hold of a chair to pull it towards her and sit down.

“Yixing… Your father didn’t leave because he fell in love with another man. He fell in love with that man long before and had been having a relationship with him while he was together with me too. Your father left because when I found out about it, I got so angry with him I _told him_ to leave. And yes, I hated him for it, for hurting me and for making me tear our family apart. But I never hated him because of who he loved. I hated him because he was a jerk.”

 

The silence stretches for a moment, and he becomes aware of how serious the conversation is. An admittance of what had gone wrong with their family, an admittance of the truth after over a decade of silence. His mother reaches out to take hold of his hands, looking straight at him, speaking to him as more of an equal than she ever has.

“I never told our family how long it had been going on, though. In the beginning I didn’t want to admit to such shame, but over time I just… Well, you know your grandparents aren’t very accepting of anything different. They’d already cast your father out, I didn’t feel the need to disgrace myself more.”

She runs her thumbs over the back of his hands. “But you should know that he didn’t want to leave you, Yixing. He fought very hard to be allowed to stay in contact with you, but his parents wouldn’t budge on the subject. I didn’t want you to lose your father, however, so I allowed him to send you birthday cards and I would occasionally write him a letter to tell him about you or send him some pictures.”

His eyes catch the barest of smiles on her face. “I wouldn’t call him a good man, because what he did to me was hurtful and wrong, but over time I managed to let it go. I could not forgive him, but I could accept it happened and move on. He’s always been a good father to you, he’s always tried his best for you. He still sends me money to provide for you and the few times we talk he always asks about you.”

“You talk with him?” This fact shocks him, convinced as he was that his mother shunned anything to do with his father to the best of her ability. His mother simply nods, giving his hands a gentle squeeze.

“It’s easier than having to write letters or e-mails.” Her expression suddenly turns sad, perhaps even a little guilty, and she looks up at him in apology. “Perhaps I should have told you about this sooner, but I didn’t realise it kept you busy. I always planned to tell you about your father should you ask, but you never did. So I thought you were okay with only having the birthday cards. That perhaps you didn’t feel like you needed a father since you could hardly remember him being around.”

The smile that appears on her face then is definitely sad, and he feels his heart constrict upon seeing his mother like this. She who has always been strong, who has raised him as a single mother and never let him want for anything. But she’s still strong, even with the tears that start to accumulate in her eyes.

“I didn’t know you remembered so much, though. You should have told me about this.” Suddenly she lets go of his hands to wrap her arms around him again and pull him into a tight hug. “Oh, my darling, how long have you been struggling with this? How long have you thought I would hate you? Oh, my baby!”

She really does start crying now, and Yixing instantly moves to pat her back, to reassure her that he only started struggling with all of this since he kissed Yifan and realised exactly what might be going on with his own feelings.

And then, with his mother’s hands in his and the breakfast forgotten on the table next to them, he tells her everything.

 _Everything_.

 

“Invite him over.”

Yixing looks up at his mother in shock from where he’s seated in the couch, surprised by her sudden suggestion.

“I’m serious. You can’t hardly talk this out properly on the internet or over the phone. Invite him over! We have an extra mattress he can use, and it’s almost your birthday so we have an excuse for the family too. Besides, they’re going to love him anyway, he’s a very polite boy.”

She makes a face then, remembering the things he told her about Yifan before. “Well at least to me he was. It seems like I shouldn’t trust in that too much, though. I thought Luhan was a polite boy too.” She shakes her head lightly, as if regretful. “At least now I finally know why you’re not talking to him anymore. It was so unlike you to just drop one of your friends. I didn’t understand what drove you to do so. Now it all makes sense.”

He smiles, suddenly, and pulls his mother into another hug. “I missed you.” The words are spoken softly but heartfelt nonetheless. He didn’t realise how much he missed sharing his thoughts with her until he went so long without having the opportunity. “I’m so glad I can talk to you properly again.”

He hears her breathe out a smile as well, then pat his arm affectionately. “Well if you can’t even talk to your mother, then who _can_ you talk to? I’m just glad I know what’s going on now, so I can at least try to help. And now that we’re back to me giving you advice; invite him over! Tell him I told you to invite him because I wanted to meet your roommate and thank him for taking such good care of you.”

He snorts automatically and his mother laughs, fondly messing up his hair.

“Just invite him over, Xingxing. You can figure out the rest when he gets here.”

He looks at her for a moment in silence, then says the only thing he can say in his current situation.

“Yes mother.”

 

“She wants to thank you for taking such good care of me.”

He can’t help the amused little grin at those words. “But if you don’t want to come, you can just tell me. I’ll make up some sort of excuse for you that won’t hurt her feelings and make her still like you just the same.”

Yifan’s quiet for a moment, apparently considering. Then: “Are you okay with it?”

He smiles at that question, like he hasn’t smiled in a long time. Just genuine, unbridled happiness over the fact that Yifan still cares about his feelings, about making sure he’s comfortable. He’s barely capable of remembering the older male as being rude and heartless now.

“Yeah, I am,” he replies after a moment. “You can come if you want. If you give me a list of things you’d like to eat here I’m pretty sure she’ll even make you all of it.”

He hears Yifan smile too now, and it makes him feel warm inside; to know he has somehow achieved making Yifan feel happier.

“Alright. I’ll do that then,” he’s told after another pause. “Let me just check flight availability.”

He sits in silence then as Yifan browses several sites trying to find a not too pricey ticket. More at ease than at any point in the last couple of months as he listens to the sound of typing and the occasional clicks, only speaking to answer the few questions about which airport and ‘does he have to find transport, or would they come pick him up?’ Eventually there’s a longer absence of sound as Yifan apparently scrolls through his available options.

“I found a cheap one, but it’s the day after tomorrow. Would that be okay?”

He chuckles lightly. “Yeah, I don’t think she minds. She’ll probably drag me on a grocery shopping trip tomorrow then is all.”

This fact clearly amuses Yifan, but a second question soon follows. “It’s hand luggage only, though. Would it be fine if I washed some of my clothes at your place should I run out?”

That, in its turn, amuses _him_ greatly.

“Yifan, you’ve got her wrapped around your finger. She’d do anything for you. If you arrived with nothing whatsoever she’d take you out to get you a new wardrobe – actual piece of furniture included, most probably.” They both chuckle at that, before he adds: “Don’t worry so much. Just check if you can get a flight and everything else will be fine.”

There’s a moment of silence as Yifan seems to consider those words, then: “Alright. Let me just go and talk to Sehun’s mother about this and then I’ll let you know.”

“Okay. I’ll be here.”

“Okay.”

 

“Is that him?”

It’s probably the thousandth time his mother asks that, but he still smiles and shakes his head.

“No, mom,” he replies like he has done every other time, eyes continuing to scan the people walking into the arrival hall as he speaks. “That’s not him.” Suddenly his gaze catches a familiar face in the crowd and as the other people disperse, his heart skips a beat at the sight of Yifan actually walking in with the rest of the crowd. “ _That’s_ him.”

His mother’s head turns instantly, eyes automatically zooming in on the tall figure, perhaps recognising Yifan from his own descriptions. “Oh,” she says, eyeing Yifan with an expression close to wonder. And “Oh,” she adds again after a moment, an adoring smile starting to grow on her features. “What an exceptionally handsome young man. You have exquisite taste in men, my darling.”

She grins up at him and then, upon seeing him still standing there, gives him a solid nudge in Yifan’s direction. “Well, don’t just stand there! Go get him!”

He stumbles forward, turning redder than he has ever been, and quickly takes a few more strides towards the arrival doors. Yifan’s searching gaze soon finds him, eyes coming to a stop on his face, and he feels himself start to smile automatically as he closes the rest of the distance. Earlier embarrassment forgotten, he lets his own eyes skim over Yifan’s features too, noting the little changes since they last saw each other.

“Hey.” The word is spoken softly once he’s within earshot, as he feels how his entire body seemingly relaxes just from being close to the older male again. He even temporarily forgets the rest of the world, reaching out to pull Yifan into a hug. One arm comes up around him instantly like a reflex, Yifan’s body stiffening under his touch in surprise or shock for a moment before it, too, relaxes.

“Hey,” he hears spoken next to his ear then, the familiar voice sending a tremble through his chest. Breathing in the still familiar scent of the older male, he even temporarily allows his eyes to close. Holding on for as long as he feels would be proper in public for regular friends, he eventually pulls away again. He doesn’t let their eyes meet as he does so, however, but instead gently takes hold of Yifan’s wrist and tugs him along with him towards his mother.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

He learns what ‘such a polite boy’ looks like on Yifan when the tall male dips into a low bow upon reaching his mother, then speaks in the politest and almost meek tones.

“Hello miss Zhang. What an honour to finally meet you.”

Yixing has never seen the smile that blooms on Yifan’s face next when his mother bristles in happy embarrassment and takes hold of the tall boy’s arm.

“Oh, darling, you truly have the nicest friends,” she chimes happily, before focusing on Yifan entirely again to be able to ask him all about his trip and “Did you get enough to eat, dear?”

He watches with a happy little smile on his face how his mother starts to lead Yifan away from him and towards the exit where they can grab a taxi home.

 

“You have a nice home.”

Yifan makes that comment while sitting on his bed later that night. In the middle of making up the spare mattress into Yifan’s bed, Yixing looks up only shortly, smiling warmly.

“Thanks.”

“Your mother is very nice too.”

“She is amazing,” he agrees easily, tucking the last corner of the sheet away and pulling up the blanket. Once the pillow is in place too, he straightens up and looks back over at the older male. They hold the eye contact for a tense moment, before Yixing glances off to the side. “Have you been well?”

“Could have been better, but alright, yeah.” As always the answer is blunt but free of blame and it makes him smile automatically.

“That’s such a you thing to say,” he states somewhat amused, watching the way the words make Yifan’s expression shift. Eyebrows raising, the eyes get a challenging look to them.

“What do you mean by that?” He is questioned, and he decides now is as good a time as any to just be upfront about things. So he closes the distance between them and comes to a stop in front of Yifan, leaning down slightly to be able to put his hands on the other male’s knees.

“I mean that I love you.”

The face that Yifan makes is comical at best, a mixture of surprise, disbelief and confusion that he’s never seen on the older male’s features before. It takes a bit of effort not to laugh, but he doesn’t want to make Yifan think he’s joking either.

“You’ve never said that before,” Yifan eventually utters, soft and careful, hands coming to a rest upon his. He starts to smile lightly, then shakes his head.

“Because I never thought we could last before, and I didn’t want to make saying goodbye any harder than it already was going to be.” He turns his hands over, so he can take hold of Yifan’s and give them a gentle squeeze.

“Before…?” Yifan repeats, and if he hadn’t been told so bluntly by Sehun of Yifan’s feelings for him he might still have been surprised by the sliver of hope that suddenly sparks inside those dark eyes.

“I told my mom,” he confesses softly, never once breaking the eye contact this time. “She knows. That’s why she told me to invite you.”

“She knows?” Yifan repeats again almost stupidly and it takes a moment before he realises the older male is at a complete loss for words, shocked by this sudden news. Not letting go of the hands in his, he sits down on the edge of the bed as well and starts to run his thumb over Yifan’s skin.

“She knows. So if you still want to try and figure this out with me…” He pauses, looking for the right words to perfectly capture everything he wishes to say but coming up empty. All that eventually comes out of his mouth is: “That’d be nice.”

He grins sheepishly after saying it and gets to watch those damned handsome features curve into the much more familiar smirk of amusement as well.

He decides to kiss any possible comments right off Yifan’s lips before they can be spoken.

 

They’re lying so closely together that even he is unable to tell where Yifan ends and he begins exactly. His head rests comfortably on Yifan’s chest, a heartbeat steady beneath his ear. He hasn’t been this comfortable in months and his body is urging him to make use of the opportunity by sleeping, but he doesn’t want to miss a single second of the moment either.

One of Yifan’s hands rests on his back, underneath his shirt, and a warm glow seems to emanate from that particular spot, moving through the rest of his body at a steady pace. It’s a soothing feeling that only serves to make him even more reluctant to move, so he makes a little protesting noise when Yifan stirs.

“Isn’t your mother going to come in?” Yifan asks, and he notices the footsteps himself only then. Shifting lightly to glance at the door, he shrugs.

“Nah, she wouldn’t.” Yifan’s expression tells him the older male is not as convinced of that fact as he is – and that Yifan would rather not be in their current position should she do so – so he sighs and lifts his head up slightly.

“Mom are you going to come in?” He calls out towards his mother, and the footsteps come to a temporary halt.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling. You two can enjoy each other in peace. Just remember to practice safe sex!” The almost smug little smile he’d given Yifan at the first part of her words turns into an embarrassed splutter within seconds and he blushes a deep red instantly.

“Mom!” He complains loudly, but only her laughter follows his protest.

“Good night, my boys. I’ll see you in the morning.” A pause, then a mischievously added: “Do make sure you wash your hands before breakfast. And your mouths too, perhaps?”

He nearly falls off the bed in his attempt to escape his own embarrassment. Blushing furiously, he tries to put an appropriate distance between Yifan and himself as his mother’s footsteps recede to her own bedroom.

“She didn’t… That wasn’t… It was just a joke,” he stutters quickly, hoping Yifan doesn’t think he mentioned doing something like _that_ to his mother. Before he can distance himself even further, the taller male takes hold of his hand.

“Yixing, it’s okay. I know it’s a joke. Please come back. I’ve missed you, I’m tired and all I want to do right now is hold you as close to me as I can and make sure I’m not dreaming this.”

 _His_ voice is finally back and the sound of it makes him automatically move back, knowing Yifan would never further embarrass him in a moment like this. Melting into the older male’s touch almost gratefully, he closes his eyes automatically as he settles back down.

“And if you want there to be a reason for us to have to wash our hands before breakfast, then we can talk about that in the morning.”

In that moment, with Yifan’s arms around him and his head once more resting on the taller male’s chest, the words don’t even make him blush anymore. He simply hums and gently runs his hand over Yifan’s side.

“Okay,” he says softly then, turning his head to leave a kiss on Yifan’s chest. “And you’re not dreaming. I love you.”

The sound of Yifan smiling makes him forget all about everything other than how happy he currently is.

 

The sound of his phone is what wakes them from an entangled slumber late the next morning. He reaches for it groggily, then curses as he sees the time and quickly disentangles himself from Yifan. Two steps take him to his desk, where he flicks on a light then answers the videocall.

“Yo, Z-ma- Whoa! Bed hair alert! Did you only just wake up, my dude?” Chanyeol’s all too cheerful voice breaks through the silence of the morning a little too loudly after the blissful hours of sleep. He merely lets out a sort of groan in response, which causes his friend to chuckle in amusement.

“Well then, Sleeping Beauty. Better get yourself woken up because I’ve got some new tunes you need to hear and give your opinion on.”

He runs a hand over his face and stifles a yawn. The next moment arms slip around his middle from behind and a chin comes to rest on his shoulder. He stiffens automatically, unused to the touch, but relaxes slightly as Yifan softly presses their cheeks together.

“Sucks for you, shithead,” the older male says in his normal, colder voice then. “I call dibs on Yixing today and I ain’t sharing. Try again tomorrow.”

He only has enough time to see Chanyeol’s shocked expression before Yifan ends the call again. Turning slightly, he looks up at the tall male a bit blaming, but all it earns him is a lazy morning kiss.

“I know Tuesdays are guitar playing days and I won’t ever try to stop you from being friends with Chanyeol, but just for this week I don’t want to share you,” Yifan says after they pull apart again and he can’t help but smile at the statement.

“That’s fine with me. Although you will probably have to share me with my mom. And my family comes over every Friday,” he replies, putting his phone down on his desk so he can slide his hands under Yifan’s shirt and warm them on the older male’s skin.

“I can live with that,” Yifan responds, voice a little tight, and Yixing feels the muscles under his hands tense up. He leans in slowly to get another kiss, then contently buries himself in Yifan’s hold.

 

Breakfast is hell.

That is to say; Yifan and his mother get along so swimmingly that it translates into them loudly discussing a list of made-up sexual activities that Yifan and him might have tried out, and him blushing heavily all throughout and keeping his head ducked down to avoid either of their gazes.

To his even greater mortification, his mother ends the conversation with: “Well, as you can see Yixing is not very well-versed yet in these activities, but I’ll trust you’ll take good care of him.”

He doesn’t wait to hear Yifan’s response, instead fleeing to the kitchen to put away his empty plate and locking himself in the bathroom afterwards. He hopes a proper shower will cool down his burning cheeks at least a little.

Yifan’s sitting on the bed when he gets back to the room, and the phone is instantly put aside at his entrance.

“Come here,” the older male says with the usual soft voice again, so he complies without hesitation. “I love when you just showered, you always smell so good.”

He instantly blushes again, even as he crawls onto Yifan’s lap, and the older male of course notices. “You’re adorable, you know that? Adorable and so goddamn attractive at the same time. I don’t know how you do it.”

He contently lets his body lean back into Yifan’s chest and closes his eyes, relieved that he at least doesn’t have to look the other male in the eye anymore since his cheeks keep flushing.

“I don’t do anything at all,” he manages to say after a moment, a little smile forming on his face as he does so despite his awkwardness with the compliments. “It’s just your hormones fucking you over.”

Yifan lets out a sort of grunt, before replying: “Well thank god for hormones, then.”

The words make him laugh, and it’s not long before he feels Yifan’s chest shake with mirth as well.

 

There is, in fact, a list of Chinese food Yifan really wanted to eat again, and his mother does indeed prepare something from it every day. As if it’s somehow a bonding pact between Yifan and his mother, the two of them seem to get closer with every passing day, and it’s not long before the older male and his mother hold personal conversations together whenever he goes to shower.

That’s how it’s not from Yifan himself but from his own mother that he learns Yifan hasn’t even spoken to his parents nor any of his family anymore ever since he’d outed himself. Once again he realises how lucky he is and for the first time he wonders how much Yifan has suffered because of his decision to be honest with the world.

He only brings it up later that night, asking Yifan if it was very hard to tell his parents. The question causes a heavy silence to fall between them and the only reason he doesn’t take back his words right away is because Yifan’s fingers still steadily trace random patterns on his arm and haven’t stopped even for a moment.

Eventually Yifan sighs. “Over the years, as I slowly started to realise I wasn’t as into girls as most of my friends, I started subtly figuring out their opinion on the subject. So by the time I actually told them the truth, I already knew what their reaction was going to be and I was prepared for it.” There’s a slight shrug, a movement he feels against his back, then a new silence.

“Do you think they’ll change their mind, ask you to come back?” He asks after realising Yifan doesn’t plan to say anything else. He hears the older male breathe out a smile at the question.

“I think my mother might, actually. I think she never really wanted to send me away so coldly, but my father would never let her. He wouldn’t take me back even if they’d give him ten million to do so. I’m a disgrace to him and the entire family, after all.”

That notion causes him to feel very sad inside, but he kind of gets it too. “I think with my grandparents it’s the other way around. I think my grandfather could accept something like this but my grandmother is vehemently against everything out of the norm. She’d never let him as much as smile politely at a gay person.” He pauses for a heartbeat, then decides Yifan should know the whole truth. “I think my grandfather actually misses his son more than he doesn’t approve of his decisions.”

The fingers do still on his arm then, a testament to Yifan’s surprise. “I assumed your father had died because of how little you spoke of him,” the older male admits after a moment. This makes him huff lightly.

“Might have been better for everyone involved if that were what happened. No, he left my mother and me when I was about five to go live with the man he fell in love with. My mother was both devastated and angry. So angry even that I thought she, too, hated gay people like my grandparents kind of do. Turns out my dad cheated on her with that man for years.” He shows a bit of a sheepish smile then. “All my fears about telling my mother the truth, all for nothing. I honestly thought when I told her that she was going to throw me out and I would have to start begging for food to survive.”

Yifan’s silent for a while, probably taking in the new information, but it’s not too long before he speaks again. “Then why did you tell her?”

It’s one of those questions of which the answer is probably already known, but it is asked anyway to hear the truth first-hand. He doesn’t even hesitate before replying.

“She could see something was up. Lying to her more would have created a rift between us anyway, but I was tired of doing it too.” He turns in Yifan’s hold lightly, taking one of the long arms and wrapping it around himself properly. “And I missed you. I missed you so much I thought I might die from it. I decided I’d rather lose my mother by being honest about how I felt about you than go on like that.”

He’s not given an answer in words, but the hold on him tightens and a kiss lands in his hair not long after.

 

“Boys! Get up! You get two hours to clean up and get dressed before your grandparents will be here, darling.”

He lets out a groan, temporarily burying deeper into Yifan’s arms, but then sighs deeply and quite literally rolls out of bed.

“We’re up!” He calls back to his mother first, then turns to look at Yifan. The older male is looking at him with a small, loving smile, expression soft altogether. He can’t help but smile in return, feeling himself warm up inside at the look he’s given. Unable to stop himself, he leans in and kisses Yifan shortly.

“I love you,” he says after, reaching out a hand to trace the other male’s jawline for a moment.

“I love you too,” Yifan says, even more softness seeping into his voice and features, and Yixing finds himself almost aching with the love those words ignite inside of him. All he can do is kiss Yifan again, a little longer this time.

“You never said that before,” he echoes Yifan’s own words back at him, and is rewarded for it with a huffed-out chuckle and a small shake of the head.

“I didn’t want to scare you off.” The answer is honesty at its top and he takes a moment to swallow the truth of those words. Then he smiles again.

“I’m glad you’re no longer afraid. I’ll just hope it’s because you no longer think I will run away and not because you’re secretly wishing I’d leave by now.” He grins amused at the end of his words, then straightens and turns away before Yifan can respond. “I’m going to shower.”

He makes it hallway to the door before pausing to look back. “Come with me?”

Something curious temporarily lights up in Yifan’s eyes before he’s given a nod and the older male gets out of bed too.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is. the *actual* final chapter. except there is going to be an epilogue, of course.  
> but as always i prefer to quit when i'm still kind of going because otherwise i simply won't ever finish,  
> and i think this is a good place to end this particular snippet of their story.

Only the sound of the water hitting the shower sounds up between them for a while, Yifan just looking at him while he does his best not to stare. Eventually he reaches out a hand slowly – should Yifan wish to stop him – and places his fingers on the bare abdomen. The muscles tense beneath his touch once more, goose bumps appearing on the usually so steady arms.

“Are you okay?” Yifan asks him softly and he nods in reply, stepping forward to close most of the distance between them. He lifts his other hand too then, fingers reaching up to touch Yifan’s cheek.

“Are you?” He gets a nod in reply, nothing more than that, but it’s enough, because Yifan never lies anyway. “I love you,” he says again and Yifan smiles. A hand is reached out to him then, cupping his cheek and pulling him in for a kiss. He willingly responds, automatically leaning in, balancing himself with the hand on Yifan’s stomach.

By the time they pull apart again, the steam of the warm water has fogged up the mirror, hiding them from their own view. It helps, somehow.

“Let’s get under the water,” he suggests. “It’s probably warmer there.” He smiles lightly before turning away so he can take off his pyjama pants and discard them where he has already left his shirt. He steps into the shower immediately after, a tightness in the pit of his stomach letting him know that he is stressed. He closes his eyes and lifts his head to face the water beam, allowing it to wash over him for a bit.

Behind him, he can feel Yifan step into the shower too, hears the curtain close and feels the hand coming to a rest on his lower back. Turning his head away from the water, he nearly gasps for air, turning fully to the older male and putting his hands in Yifan’s sides.

“Will you just hold me until I stop being so tense?” He asks, making sure not to meet Yifan’s eyes to keep himself from blushing again. To his great relief, Yifan merely lifts and opens his arms, and he steps into them gladly, slipping his own arms around the older male’s middle and resting his cheek against the warm shoulder.

“I won’t do anything unless you ask me to,” Yifan tells him after a moment, voice soft once more. “You do whatever you want. I trust you.” There’s so much given to him in that moment that he hardly feels it’s fair that he doesn’t give it back. The thing is; it’s not that he doesn’t trust Yifan with himself, it’s more that he doesn’t trust himself to be truly okay with whatever might happen. Luckily Yifan does nothing to indicate offence when he merely nods.

So they stand like that under the water stream for a long time, just holding each other. Eventually the knot in his stomach unravels, the tension leaves his shoulders and he relaxes into Yifan’s hold once more. But he doesn’t move yet, preferring instead to enjoy their closeness for a little bit longer.

 

His grandparents love Yifan almost as much as his mother does. The tall male has apparently somehow discovered the expression or tone of voice to charm older people with, because by the time dinner is over none of them seem capable of shutting up about how wonderful Yifan really is. On the one hand he’s glad they approve of Yifan unknowingly, on the other hand he’s pretty sure they never talked about _him_ that way, so what does that say really?

Despite how much he loves his family, he’s glad that his mother eventually gives them an excuse to leave by saying they must be tired from helping out so much. All they actually did was set the table for her, but Yifan and him gladly use the excuse to leave for his room after the necessary round of goodbyes.

He’s careful to close and lock the door this time, even pausing for a moment after to make sure no one has followed them and could be listening. When he turns back to Yifan he is greeted by open arms, and his own relief as he steps into them surprises him. Until he realises that he’s gotten so used to their casual touches and warm smiles that spending a few hours pretending absolutely nothing is going on already makes him miss their closeness.

“How did I ever manage to hang out whole days with you and the team without even reaching for you?” He questions as he buries a little closer, smiling contently when the arms tighten their hold around him.

“I don’t know,” Yifan responds, sighing deeply. “But I remember it was the worst kind of torture. Seeing you evade those paintball bullets and not being able to kiss you right where you were standing for how hot you were. You didn’t just make me lose the game, you made me lose my mind too.”

The words somehow make him feel a little smug and he can’t help chuckling softly. As apology, he nuzzles the side of Yifan’s neck, then leaves a little kiss on the older male’s cheek. “I love you,” he breathes out moments later. “You can kiss me right where I’m standing now if you want to.”

Yifan doesn’t waste a second in complying and he gladly leans up to meet him halfway.

 

“He’s still there!?” Chanyeol exclaims in surprise the next Tuesday and he grins a little guiltily at the camera. “I thought he was only staying a week?”

“He never booked a return flight,” he admits after a moment, still grinning. “He’s staying indefinitely.” This causes Chanyeol to laugh and he chuckles along easily. “He’s watching tv with my mother right now. She likes him a lot, so it works.”

Chanyeol grins. “He has an uncanny way of making them like him, doesn’t he?” The younger says amused. “My mom loved him to pieces too, so much that it almost made me jealous sometimes. And he loved her as well. I think it’s got something to do with how much he misses his own parents. Yours is even Chinese, so I bet he adores her.”

Suddenly the unfamiliar smile Yifan shows around his mother starts to make a certain kind of sense. Adoration, perhaps, but also something melancholic like homesickness. A particular blend of lonely that’s only found in children who lost their parents.

“Anyway,” Chanyeol continues, interrupting his train of thought. “Jongin got a girlfriend so he has no time anymore to listen to my songs, which means you’ve got a lot of catching up to do. I think I might be on my way to becoming the world’s next big songwriter. Korean Ed Sheeran or something.”

He snorts but doesn’t question the validity of the title. After all, for all his flair and the level of diva Chanyeol seemingly holds within his very bones, the younger is indeed very good at both writing lyrics and composing melodies.

“Alright. I’m ready to do some pro-level judging,” he responds instead, and grins brightly as Chanyeol laughs again.

Time becomes meaningless as he sits listening to Chanyeol play guitar and occasionally sing some lyrics as well. Whenever a melody ends, the younger leaves a pause and he dutifully takes his time in giving his opinion on the music, never once trying to tone down the criticism – although he honestly doesn’t have much negative to say.

It’s not long after Chanyeol starts playing a slower, softer melody, that someone knocks on his door and Yifan enters the room moments after. His eyes automatically go over to the alarm clock and his eyes widen slightly when he notices two hours have passed already. The tall male smiles at his surprised face, then shakes his had lightly to indicate he doesn’t have to interrupt Chanyeol.

He does shift around to allow Yifan a spot on the bed as well, though, settling between the long legs and leaning back against the warm chest contently. Arms instantly come around him and he smiles warmly as he gets comfortable. All at once the mellow guitar playing sounds like the perfect backdrop to just cuddle, and he does exactly that until the melody comes to an end with a few last chords.

“Very nice,” Yifan says moments after. “You’re still as good as I remember.” Chanyeol doesn’t show a single sign of surprise at the older male’s sudden presence and instead merely breathes out a smile.

“I really liked it too,” he quietly intervenes before they can somehow start one of their bickering sessions again. “It’s a very nice and soft song. Did you write it for someone specific?”

“Not really,” Chanyeol replies easily, then smiles in amusement. “Although I might have been thinking of Sehun a little bit throughout, you know.”

He laughs and soon notices Yifan chuckle lightly as well. It makes him feel content and at ease instantly.

 

“Hello?” The voice on the other side of the line sounds up, and he quickly gathers all his courage before it can escape him.

“I just wanted to say that your words helped me see what I needed to do and I’m very glad that I did it, so I wanted to thank you for that.” The words stream out of him in a rush, almost tumbling over each other in his hurry to get them out. Only when he’s done does he realise he hasn’t actually properly greeted the other and so he rather dumbly adds: “And hi, by the way. I hope you’re doing well.”

Rather than be as dumbfounded as he himself was during their previous call, Sehun just laughs for a moment. As always, the sound doesn’t make him feel embarrassed. In fact, he’s hard-pressed to remember a moment when he was embarrassed around the younger male. He vaguely remembers that time he’d been randomly hugging Yifan on the street after the paintball game, when Sehun had come to find them. Even then he hadn’t even felt a single spark of anxiety over what the tall youth might think of it all.

As if that realisation somehow magically makes everything better, he finds himself relaxing where he’s standing, the tension seeping out of his shoulders. He’s still a little stressed over the younger male’s response, but nothing truly worth mentioning anymore in comparison to the earlier tendrils of anxiety reaching all throughout him.

“I’m glad my sudden and totally inappropriate call helped somewhat,” Sehun speaks after a moment, and he can’t help but smile as he hears the amusement in the younger male’s voice. “I haven’t really heard much from Yifan, so I’m going to assume everything is going well over there. Do you have any idea yet when he’ll be flying back?”

Eyes automatically moving over to the wall as he thinks of that looming conversation, he lets out a small sigh. “No idea yet. We’re supposed to be talking about that later. I don’t think he’ll be much longer, though. He didn’t really pack for a long stay, so my mother is doing a lot of laundry.”

Sehun laughs again at that, and he can’t help but grin as well, knowing what it must sound like. Still, the truth of Yifan’s leaving makes him feel a little hollow inside and the mirth soon leaves him again.

“Anyway, I’m going to hang up now cause I’m paying for this,” he manages to still bring out after a moment, and Sehun laughs again.

“Yeah, that wasn’t the best way to end that call, was it?” The younger agrees good-naturedly and he hums with a smile on his face once more.

“It’s not like I had the brain capacity in that moment to give you an actual reply, so it’s quite alright. Besides, I think it was the quick follow up of call, words and end of call that kept me thinking about it so much.” His smile widens at the memory of his own speechlessness. That is definitely a day he won’t forget anytime soon. “Well, I’ll tell Yifan to keep you posted of the decision.”

“Alright, sounds good. Take care, Yixing.”

 

The silence at the table is almost depressing. He knows both Yifan and him are looking down at their empty plates, trying to think of what they’re going to do next. There are so many options, so many things they could do. Yifan could head back to live with Sehun, and he could even go along so they could still spend time together there, but in reality he knows he doesn’t want to live in that country. The year abroad was fine. To spend more months living there, however… It doesn’t sit well with him.

The other option is to find an apartment they can both live in somewhere in China, but neither of them have a job yet which is going to make settling down marginally harder. They’d have to first find jobs, which would require Yifan to actually have a place to stay first, which is a vicious circle with no way out of. Except for one. But how does he ask his mother to let Yifan stay longer, truly indefinitely even? How can he ask her to try and provide for three rather than two for more than she already has?

He’s growing up now, he realises this. He also knows that he should be able to start providing for himself, to find a good job so he can save up some money to give to his mother, enabling her to work less hard and be able to relax a little more as she is growing older. But how to do that in a world, in a country, that is almost designed to punish him for the fact that he loves the man sitting next to him? And yet, he doesn’t think he could leave. He doesn’t think he could move abroad to places where they would be a lot more accepted.

It’s home, after all, despite its shortcomings.

“Why don’t you stay?” His mother suddenly says, and his head snaps up instantly. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Yifan look up more slowly. “I’m sure living abroad is causing you a lot of effort to arrange your visa, especially now that you’re graduated. You can move in here while you guys figure things out, it’ll be a lot easier.” She glances over at him next, then sighs softly.

“I talked to your father about this, Yixing. He said if you guys want you could visit him for a while too. He lives further up north now but it’s easily accessible by train. Maybe he can help a little as well since he has…” She hesitates. “Experience.” His mother goes silent for a moment and he stares at her incredulously. “He owns a house now so there’s plenty of room for you guys to stay,” she continues seemingly unperturbed. “If you want to, of course.”

He turns to look at Yifan, who is looking at him by now, and sees the question in those dark eyes. Is he okay with this? Does he want to go live with a total stranger who just so happens to be his father _and_ get advice on how to live his life? He doesn’t know the answer to that, doesn’t know if he’ll ever even be able to talk to his father like a normal person for even a minute, le alone live in the same house.

His mother seems to notice his discomfort because she speaks up again just as Yifan puts a hand on his knee comfortingly. “You don’t have to decide now, darling, I’m just raising the possibility. For now, you two should decide whether you want to live abroad or here. If you want to live here then I suggest you change your address to this one, Yifan, until you guys can afford something of your own. You can decide later if you’d like to go north or not, and you can always just talk with your father too.”

He barely manages a single nod, but it’s enough for his mother to continue discussing the possible details with Yifan.

 

“You’re staying?”

Yifan nods. He didn’t realise how afraid he’d been of the outcome where they would have to part again until that single, tiny movement. A smile breaks through on his face automatically and it gets mirrored on Yifan’s features soon enough. He doesn’t wait for the arms to open or the invitation to be voiced, he merely launches himself at the older male.

To Yifan’s credit, there’s not a single falter in composure nor equilibrium as he’s caught, only a steady hold and a kiss landing in his hair. He laughs, then, a soft and almost careful sound that vibrates through his entire body and sets aflame all of his nerve endings.

“I love you,” he whispers against a shoulder, a cheek, lips. He kisses them next, kisses them and kisses them until both their skin can endure no more and their lungs are ready to burst. By the time they pull apart, his own feet are on the ground again and their clothes are in varying states of disarray. He smiles up at Yifan, seeing through half-lidded eyes, and clutches with straining fingers at the edges of fabric. Yifan’s hands move up to cup his face, feeling feverishly hot despite his own flushed cheeks.

“I love you, Zhang Yixing.” The words are whispered to him in the gentlest of tones, the softest of voices. The man in front of him is no longer the rude, unknown asshole living in the same room as him, instead he is a small, infinite, most important part of himself. A part he does not dare even as much as consider losing. A part he could never leave behind again.

“And I love you,” he says quietly, barely more than a whisper. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me ever. I don’t think I could live without you again. Not anymore.” He breathes out a sigh, quivering. Shivering with emotion. “Not anymore.”

Yifan takes hold of his chin. Their eyes meet over the small distance between them. He feels like their eyes might meet over continents and planets alike. As if their gazes are destined to meet no matter how far apart. He feels like he could never look away again. The thumb of the hand holding his chin runs gently over his lips and all emotion stills within himself, as if the entirety of him teeters on the edge, waiting for Yifan’s response.

“Why on earth would I ever leave you, Mary?”

The tension breaks like an elastic band snapping. There’s no disappointment inside of him over the sort of reply he’s given, only relief, and laughter as well as the tears suddenly spring into his eyes.

“Because I’m a fool,” he replies. “A fool that might send you away, that might get scared again, that might try to run away.”

Yifan sighs. The hand moves, fingers letting go of his chin to stroke over his cheek instead.

“I wouldn’t stop you, you know that,” the taller male says, and Yixing knows it’s true. Yifan would never try to go against his decision, not if he made it seem final enough. “If leave you want, then leave I shall let you. And cry. Oh boy, you can’t imagine how much I’ll cry. Weep my eyes out. Bawl on the bathroom floor. Tear my heart apart. I’d be absolutely-”

“Alright, alright,” he interrupts, laughing for the simple fact that Yifan’s overdoing it by a long stretch. “I won’t leave you then. I don’t wish to become a murderer.”

“We wouldn’t want that indeed,” Yifan agrees with a warm smile at him. The fingers come up to gently run under his eyes and brush aside the few tears that managed to escape. “Best I keep you as close as I can.” The arms come around him then, pulling him in, and he follows willingly.

“Best you do,” he agrees, allowing his eyes to close as his head comes to rest against the strong, solid chest.

 

“That should be everything,” Sehun says, dropping one more bag on the pile of luggage already sitting on the cart, heaving a small sigh. “Considering these are all your worldly possessions I’d say it’s little but being the one having had to fly them with me, this was a whole damn lot.”

Sehun grins, Yifan grins, Yixing smiles at their clear affection for each other.

 “Oh. I brought one more thing,” the youngest then says, giving a small nod of his head. Yixing turns to look at what’s indicated, only to come face to face with enthusiasm and happiness personified.

“Z-man!” Chanyeol exclaims happily. “Didn’t think I was gonna let Sehun visit you for your birthday and not come along myself as your best friend, did you?”

He doesn’t waste a moment as he instantly shoots forward, arms wrapping themselves around Chanyeol’s neck and pulling the younger male into a tight hug.

“Well, you don’t have to choke me over it,” Chanyeol responds in faked hoarse tones with flailing arms, directing his words to the other two next. “Guess he’s not as happy to see me as I thought he’d be.”

He chokes on a laugh then, pushing Chanyeol away from him again to be able to look at him. “You’re crazy,” he says, grinning despite the tumult of emotions in his chest. “And it’s so good to see you again.”

This makes Chanyeol beam one of his bright grins, the truly happy ones, and Yixing smiles in warm content. “This is such a great surprise, honestly. Did you know about this?” He looks at Yifan, who has an arm comfortably draped around Sehun’s shoulders by now and shakes his head lightly.

“Not a clue,” he says, then his gaze moves to Chanyeol. “But it _is_ good to see you, despite everything.” Yixing’s pretty sure all three of them stare at the tall male after those words, but no one is as shocked as Chanyeol himself, who actually goes quiet for a full few seconds.

“It’s… good to see you too, Yifan,” he responds after, looking at the older male like the explosion might hit any second. But Yifan merely smiles, then turns to look at the luggage cart.

“Well, let’s go. Why don’t you use all that excess energy to push this thing, Park? Sehun and I will keep watch to make sure you don’t destroy everything.” This pulls a chuckle from Sehun, who reaches out for the cart himself.

“The only way to stop that guy from destroying anything with this is to push it ourselves.” The words are a clear jab at Chanyeol, but the latter still puts a hand on his heart and sighs dreamily.

“Always the gentleman,” the younger breathes out, then glances over at Yixing and winks lightly. “And that is how you make handsome men do things for you.”

He can’t stop himself from laughing.

 

His mother absolutely flourishes with the people staying at the apartment. Despite absolutely loving their presence, Yixing is also glad to know that they’re only staying one night, because Chanyeol’s continued presence is absolutely overwhelming in such a small space. Luckily Sehun seems to manage snatching up most of Chanyeol’s attention whenever he becomes a little too much, allowing Yifan and him to take a breath every now and again.

His birthday dinner that night is absolutely hilarious, with his grandparents wanting to know everything about his other two friends, and the translations of everything being said get a little funny sometimes too. Yifan and him are the only two to know whenever they leave something out or make a joke about something one of the people said, and their gazes lock often enough over little smiles and shared amusement.

By the time his grandparents leave, it’s well past midnight and the four of them stumble into his room like the drunk partygoers they are. Chanyeol and Sehun temporarily have to share the mattress on the floor, which he thought might be a problem, but the two males just crawl under the blanket together, Sehun entirely comfortable with the arms Chanyeol wraps around his middle and even putting an arm around him in return.

They fall asleep not long after, leaving Yixing looking at them with a sort of confused expression on his face, unable to comprehend how Sehun can be so comfortable with the older male despite his obvious and well-voiced crush. It’s only when Yifan’s arm comes around his shoulders that he tears his gaze away from the scene to look up at his boyfriend.

His boyfriend. The suddenly used title surprises him a little, but it makes him smile all the same, and Yifan smiles right back before leaning in to give him a kiss.

“They’re actually good friends, you know,” Yifan tells him after a moment. “They always got along splendidly when I was still dating Chanyeol too.” There’s a pause as Yifan glances at the sleeping pair too, then turns back to him. “They stopped interacting as much after Chanyeol and my fallout, but because Chanyeol stayed friends with Sehun’s girlfriend they sort of kept in contact.”

He hums, looking over at the pair as well, still not really understanding. “But doesn’t it bother Sehun,” he eventually asks, looking back up at Yifan in hopes of finally being given an answer. “The way Chanyeol keeps hinting at being into him and all that?” His boyfriend – he still glows a little inside at this new title, even without saying it out loud – shrugs lightly then runs fingers over his arm softly.

“I think it’s something of an inside joke between them by now. Chanyeol actually confessed one day, quite some time after we broke up.” Yifan’s expression shifts temporarily to something hurt and painful, and he automatically reaches out to touch the taller male’s chest as if to soothe the heartache resting within. This earns him a smile, before Yifan sighs lightly and continues. “I think they just reached this understanding between them where they both know for certain that Sehun is together with Mirae and that isn’t going to change, but that he doesn’t mind Chanyeol’s feelings. And whatever can be said about Chanyeol, he knows how to respect someone’s boundaries. Sehun honestly just takes all those comments as compliments, I think.”

Then, suddenly, Yifan breathes out a smile. “Although if you want to know any of this for sure, you’re going to have to ask Sehun himself. Chanyeol is never going to tell you the truth about how he feels, though. He smiles and laughs all the negative stuff away, even when it threatens to destroy his relationship with people.” The fingers on his arm still as Yifan looks down at the younger male with something akin to bitterness.

“He’s a great friend, and probably a good boyfriend too if you don’t mind the others he’s dating, but I don’t think he’ll ever be serious relationship material.” A pause, as Yifan’s expression shifts into a smile, ease returning to the lines of his face. “Unless your name is Oh Sehun, of course.” A chuckle, then: “Honestly, sometimes I think if Sehun wasn’t straight, they’d make a great couple.”

He grins at this comment as well, then looks straight at Yifan for a moment. “Like us?” He asks, smiling still, and Yifan’s smile turns twice as bright as he leans in for a kiss.

“Like us.”

 

He sits at his desk later the next day, feeling both relieved and somehow sad at the silence that is left behind in the house now that Sehun and Chanyeol have gone back home. They both promised to visit again once the two of them found themselves a more permanent place to live in, but somehow seeing them off at the airport had felt a little like saying a more permanent sort of goodbye.

Surprisingly that’s not what his mind is occupied with the most, however. Instead he’s twirling a card between his fingers, looking at it intently as he tries his best to figure out his next course of action. Every now and then, he opens the card again to let his gaze wander over the words written inside and the series of numbers scribbled at the bottom, then he closes it again and goes back to twirling.

Twenty minutes later Yifan finds him like this, and even though the older male laughs lightly at him, there is no insult in the action. It’s not long before the card is taken from his hands and put aside on the desk. He’s pulled up from the chair next, hands taking hold of his face and pulling him into a long kiss.

By the time Yifan lets go of him again, he has nearly forgotten where he is, let alone what he was planning to do. Taking only enough time to take a few necessary, deep breaths, he then leans right back in to continue the kiss.

He doesn’t know how much time passed when Yifan’s fingers gently start to run through his hair. Opening his eyes first, he then lifts his head from his boyfriend’s chest – where he had been listening to the erratic heartbeat slowly calming down – and gives Yifan a warm, content smile. He gets one in return, as well as a finger gently tapping his nose.

“You should call him,” he’s told moments later, and like that is reminded of what he’s just spent an entire making-out session forgetting. “Maybe you don’t get along and then it’s whatever, but who knows? You might get a new friend and ally out of it.” Something hard flashes in Yifan’s eyes for a second, before they soften again. “And trust me, you’re going to need that.”

He sighs lightly but can’t disagree with the statement. Letting his fingers wander over Yifan’s bare chest, he tries to find an excuse not to call. There are plenty, but he knows all of them are just whatever his mind comes up with to avoid the anxiety of calling a total stranger. Eventually all he can do is sigh again and nod his head once.

“I will,” he says, eyes closing in content as Yifan pulls the blanket up to cover them. “Tomorrow, maybe.” This earns him a chuckle from the older male, and he grins in amusement at the way the mirth shakes right through him as well.

“You’re incorrigible sometimes,” his boyfriend decides after another moment and he grins almost proudly, giving a solemn nod of his head.

“And yet here you are, having changed my mind completely about being in love with you,” he counters, then gets to watch the way this statement causes Yifan’s entire being to mellow down to something soft and oh so very loving once more.

“My greatest achievement in life,” the older male says just as solemnly then.

He probably falls in love twice as much right then.


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it guys. this is the end of the story.  
> i wrote an epilogue that i liked and that also made me reach a nanowrimo-appropriate wordcount lol  
> it has been an amazing ride to write this entire piece, to see the characters come to life and the ways they interacted with each other.  
> i don't think i've ever been this caught up in one of my own stories, or that i've ever written something this solid in such a short time.  
> also can i just say i absolutely *love* chanyeol and the relation he has with sehun & mirae  
> as for all of you who have read or are reading or plan to read; i absolutely love you too.  
> thanks for joining me in this adventure, and perhaps we'll meet again on the next one ^^

“Is someone going to help me with these boxes!?” He calls out in frustration, casting a telling look at one particular tall male standing a little off to the side with nothing but a dust cloth in his hands.

“Don’t look at me,” Chanyeol instantly pipes up, grinning brightly. “I’m not here to help with the heavy lifting, I’m just here to check out the hot men doing so.” Despite his actual frustration with the heaviness of the boxes, he finds himself laughing at the statement, having long given up on trying to change anything about the younger male.

“Here, I’ll help you with that,” Jianguo says, walking up to take hold of the other side of the boxies. He gives the older male a grateful smile, then lifts the boxes up with the given help and starts carrying them inside. Halfway there, his father crosses them in the other direction.

“Never thought I’d live to see the day,” the man says, eyeing his partner and son with a bit of a grin on his features. “You, actually doing heavy lifting Jianguo?”

The one addressed laughs at first, then motions for his father to shut up. “Don’t say that, I’m trying to make a good impression on Yixing. You’re ruining it!”

He watches the way his father laughs then too, actual contentment radiating off the older male, and is suddenly reminded of the way Yifan laughs at his jokes sometimes. With the same warmth. That thought, of course, brings a smile to his own face as well, and he manages to carry the boxes inside without further issues. Dropping them in a corner of the living room, he temporarily pauses to straighten up and stretch his back.

“It looks nice,” Jianguo tells him, and he nods his head once, smiling automatically. “Yeah, we were very lucky to find this place.”

“Yixing, darling, are these plates yours or mine?” His mother calls out just then as she walks in from the kitchen. Her eyes land on the man to his side and for a moment he expects the same awkwardness as there had been between them earlier on in the day, but then his mother smiles shortly before her eyes move on to him. She lifts up one of the plates in her hands and he frowns lightly at it.

“I actually have no clue, mom,” he replies easily after a moment, grinning at her sheepishly. “You should ask Mirae, she’s the one who basically wrapped them all up. I’m sure she’ll know.”

“I heard you say my name,” said girl calls out from the kitchen, soon appearing in the door opening as well. “And I can tell you that I have no idea either. I didn’t do this box. It was either Sehun or Chanyeol. Considering there’s still an even number of plates in it, I’d say Sehun is a safer bet.”

Right then, the two people being discussed walk into the room, one carrying three stacked boxes, the other walking after him with a rolled-up carpet.

“Where does this goes, Mrs Zhang?” Chanyeol questions with one of his most innocent smiles, and he watches the way his mother instantly starts to smile warmly again, pointing out to Chanyeol where to go with the carpet.

“Babe, were these Yixing’s plates or his moms?” Mirae meanwhile questions Sehun, who tries to glance at the plate held up to him from behind the load in his arms. Right as he loses his balance because of this, Yifan is suddenly there to catch the top two boxes, putting them safely down on the floor before looking over at Mirae.

“Those aren’t ours,” he says after a quick glance, then calls out to wherever Yixing’s mother has gone off too: “They’re yours, mom. You got those from your aunt five years ago.” His mother calls something intelligible back, but they don’t bother trying to ask her to repeat herself, since Chanyeol’s voice already sounds up again right after, chattering away endlessly, even though his mother still understands not much more than two words of Korean.

“Hey Park!” Yifan calls out a split second later, voice suddenly hard. “Get over here and make yourself useful for a change! This furniture needs dusting before we carry it upstairs.”

Right as Chanyeol reappears in the door opening, his father enters the room as well carrying several more boxes.

“Oh lord, this is never ending,” Yixing brings out with a deep sigh, closing his eyes for a moment and running his hands over his face. When he lowers them again, Yifan is right in front of him, smiling at him warmly and taking hold of his hands before giving him a quick kiss.

“Why don’t we pause for lunch now? I think we got all of mom’s boxes inside. Chanyeol can dust off that furniture while we eat since he’s done nothing useful so far, and then we can start upstairs after the break.” The words pull laughter from the other three who understand Chinese, as well as a series of displeased spluttering from Chanyeol who got nothing more than his name and the laughter but managed to put the pieces together himself just fine with that.

Yixing can’t help but smile at the words as well, then gives a nod of his head, squeezing Yifan’s hands gently. “What would I do without you?” He whispers softly, and it brings a fond smile to his boyfriend’s features.

“Probably still pretend to be straight,” he is told after a moment in a deadpan voice, and he snorts incredulously.

“You’re a dick,” he tells Yifan in that same whisper, before turning away to look at the others. “Let’s have lunch,” he tells the non-Chinese ones in a normal voice. The words are met with agreement from all sides, and their lunch is quickly unpacked and heated up by his mother. In no time they’re all seated on the living room floor, contently eating.

 

Yixing’s eyes flicker over to his father almost subconsciously, taking in the way the man is smiling lightly while eating, a fond look on his features. It’s still strange to be in the same room, really, to have him part of conversations and to interact with him on a regular basis. But as Yifan said, they could really use the help and he shouldn’t turn away someone who cares about him and wants nothing but the best for him.

It’s not strange to think of the man as his father, nor is it weird to hear other people call him that, as the older man looks almost exactly like he did in Yixing’s early memories. To say it himself, however… He’s more than relieved that they’ve agreed to just use first names and see how it goes from here. But with the way things are going – and mostly seeing how little issue his mother truly has with his father – he’s pretty sure that they’ll be seeing and hearing more of each other from here on out. Especially now that they’re living closer together.

He does wonder what might happen with family dinners now. He doesn’t think his mother will venture to invite both his father and his grandparents to the table – now _that_ would be a spectacle – but he presumes it’s going to still require some effort to keep his grandparents from finding out the truth. One little word out of place and he might give away the fact that he’s in contact with his father again.

“It’s perfect,” Chanyeol says right then, interrupting his thoughts and making him look away from his father. “You both have so much space that there is no problem at all with me moving in.” The younger male grins brightly, mischief as well as amusement combined in the expression, and he can’t help snorting at the words.

Yifan is quick to respond, however. “Oh I don’t think so, Park. If you ever want to move in here, I will make sure you’ll have to pay your fair share of rent and that there will be strict regulations on how many times a month we will be forced to look upon your face.”

This makes Sehun laugh, and Mirae chuckles a bit as well. He still grins himself, watching the way Chanyeol sputters a little at Yifan’s stern expression, but then starts to grin again in the end.

“Alright, alright, that sounds fair,” the younger gives in, raising his hands lightly in defeat.

“Besides,” Mirae then says, grinning easily. “I didn’t think you would be willing to move out of the country. Imagine; having to travel every time you’d want to see Sehun in person again. I don’t think you’d survive longer than a month.”

Sehun chuckles again, as do Yifan and him. Chanyeol casts one long look at the youngest of the group, then sighs deeply. “Ah, you are entirely right, of course,” he admits, before grinning again as well. “Guess I’ll only be able to visit occasionally, guys.”

Yifan pretends to send up a prayer of relief, whereas Yixing does a triumphant little fist pump. Chanyeol’s face contorts into something clearly offended, his mouth opening to say something. Before he can speak, however, a cloth is neatly thrown right into his face.

“If you’ve got this much time to talk, you’ve also got time to properly dust off that furniture waiting for us outside,” Sehun states calmly. Chanyeol’s eyes widen in clear surprise, mouth shifting to form words but no actual sound coming out.

“And if you’re quick enough about it, perhaps I might even convince Sehun to take off his shirt while carrying all that furniture upstairs,” Mirae adds before Chanyeol has even properly recovered. “It’s hard work after all isn’t it? All that heavy lifting.”

Chanyeol casts one more thoughtful look at the couple, then gets up from his seat and speed-walks away with the dust cloth in hand, accompanied by yet another chorus of laughter from the other four.

 

Despite their number and systematic work, it still takes them several more hours to haul all the furniture up the stairs and into the right rooms. Unlike with his mother’s stuff, they just put the boxes in the right rooms and leave them to be unpacked at a later date. All they really need for the night is the beds and sheets.

His mother has meanwhile prepared a proper dinner for them to enjoy at her already properly set up dining table and they all crowd around it happily. There’s way too much alcohol involved again, but it doesn’t really matter. Except for his father and Jianguo no one has to head home, and they will probably simply grab a taxi to go home anyway. So the conversation flows easily, the laughter is plentiful and the night is absolutely perfect.

They move to the sitting room after dinner. Mirae sits leaning against Sehun, while at the same time running her fingers absentmindedly through Chanyeol’s hair, who is seated on the floor right next to Sehun’s legs. Jianguo and his father have taken rather more appropriate seats next to each other, but there’s always some part of them touching, like an unbreakable connection. Yifan and him share a couch with his mother, made possible only because of the fact that he’s contently huddled away within the circle of Yifan’s arms.

Despite the rather strange gathering of people – with six of them not speaking each other’s language, three of them once embroiled in a very unfortunate love triangle and two of them having gone through a painful breakup – the atmosphere in the room seems warmer than he has ever known it to be. There is no animosity between the nine of them, no one having to pretend they’re something they’re not. There’s no judgement, nor strange looks given.

For the first time in years, or maybe even for the first time since he can remember, he feels entirely at ease within a group of people. A feeling that only grows stronger when his mother reaches out to put a hand on his leg and Yifan tightens the hold around his middle at the same time. He smiles warmly at the first, then turns his head to be able to kiss the latter on his cheek.

When he turns his attention back to the ongoing conversation, it is to realise that Chanyeol is trying to explain in slow Korean and the occasional badly pronounced Chinese word to both his father and Jianguo about the two guys he’s currently dating and exactly how that works considering they both know of each other but have never actually met.

The sight of it is so hilarious that he burst out into laughter instantly, and he doesn’t stop laughing for a full minute, not even as his stomach aches and the tears spring into his eyes.

 

It’s late at night when they finally make it to their own bedroom. They leave Sehun, Mirae and Chanyeol in the guest room, the latter two already asleep cuddled up under the blankets, while Sehun calmly takes off their socks, pants and sweaters to make sure they wouldn’t get too uncomfortable during the night.

Weiming and Jianguo have gone home too, taking a taxi as planned. His mother was surprisingly warm in greeting them goodnight, as well as when she invited them over for tea somewhere in the following week. And despite how little he really knows about his father, and how long he had thought that he was supposed to hate the man, seeing them interact so easily made him feel a particular kind of contentment.

Nothing beats the moment when he steps into his new bedroom, however, seeing the king-size bed standing proudly in the middle of it and the wardrobe covering an entire wall. His eyes wander over the view in both pride and awe and the pit of his stomach slowly fills with warmth. A feeling that only grows when two arms wrap around his middle and a head comes to a rest on his shoulder. He turns his head lightly at the contact, glancing down at Yifan’s face, and smiles automatically.

“What do you think?” The question is spoken in a soft voice, that warmth and love there that he has gotten so very used to.

“What do I think?” He responds, turning around so he can put his arms around Yifan’s middle as well, leaning in to kiss his boyfriend shortly. “I think it looks absolutely perfect.” He kisses those inviting lips once more after the words, then smiles contently and nuzzles Yifan’s cheek. “I think I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life here with you.”

By now he knows that saying these kinds of things will make Yifan’s expression soften, will make the lines disappear and the clear and unbridled love appear in those eyes. That’s, of course, exactly why he says them, and he smiles wider as he gets to see the changes happen.

“You know exactly what to say to get me undone,” the tall male protests upon seeing the almost smug look on his face, and he starts to grin wider instantly.

“What can I say? I’m _that_ good,” he responds easily, causing Yifan to snort.

“I didn’t realise I was dating Chanyeol. Again. But I guess now I know what’s hiding beneath those handsome features of yours.”

The compliment still causes his cheeks to flush ever so slightly even after all this time, but he doesn’t try to hide it anymore. In return for his effort to keep the eye contact, he gets to see the way Yifan’s lips curl into a small, adoring little smile that he has never witnessed before.

“Look who’s talking,” he manages to say after a moment’s hesitation, reaching up to run a hand over the taller male’s chest. “You’re quite handsome yourself, you know. I bet plenty of people have already cursed their luck being unable to have you for themselves.” Yifan huffs at this, but smiles nonetheless.

“You’re so fucking nice,” he is told after another moment of silence, that rough quality back in the older male’s voice that he still remembers all too well from a day now seeming so long ago that had been the start of everything they have between them now. As if Yifan knows exactly what he’s thinking, another few words are added not much later. “It’s so damn attractive.”

He does exactly what he did the first time he heard it too; he takes hold of Yifan’s face and kisses him hard.


End file.
